


Loveless

by nikola



Category: Final Fantasy VII
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2016-02-02
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:23:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 37
Words: 151,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nikola/pseuds/nikola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Novel-version of the story of Final Fantasy VII, with my interpretations; follows the script at first, but then gets more and more liberal. Disclaimer: NOTHING belongs to me except how the words come together, and I don't make profit from this. <br/>“The last scene, there’s this girl and she says to this boy, ‘do you have to go?’ and the boy says somethin’ like, ‘it’s my responsibility.’ And the girl doesn’t understand, she says she doesn’t, but please take care of yourself, she says. And she goes all teary but the boy ain’t crying, just this sad sort of smile – ‘I’ll come back’, he says. ‘Even if you don’t wait for me, I’ll come back knowing that you’ll be here.’”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Newcomer

-

 Jessie leaped down first onto the empty platform. No – _almost_ empty. The two guards goggled as two people – as now Biggs was landing neatly next to her – fell out of the sky. The top of the train, but they didn’t need to know that. Grinning, Jessie gave the guard on the left her best kick, and he collapsed before he could even open his mouth. Biggs knocked out the other one.

 “Nice one, Jess,” he nodded an approval.

 “What, it’s over already?” Came the squeaking voice and a loud _thud_ as Wedge jumped down. He rolled a couple of times but then hurried to get up. He squirmed, but didn’t complain that his ass hurt or anything – he was finally learning. Jessie rolled her eyes.

 “And you would’ve totally knocked them out if it wasn’t, right?”

 Wedge crunched up his round face in a scowl. The only reason he was in AVALANCHE – a proper terrorist group, thank you – was because Wedge could make bombs. Really flashy ones, too. Right now, though, what with the soft eyebrows and the plump, pale body, he looked like a scowling twelve-year-old. Jessie was about to tell him so when a growl interrupted them from behind.

 “Can it, crackheads.” A rough bark of a voice, then a louder _thud_. It was their leader, Barret. She turned around with a playful grin.

 “Just kidding, boss.”

 Barret hated when she called him that. Biggs chuckled. Barret frowned, but then another _thud_ cut him off. Softer this time; almost gone unheard, like he had no weight. Or had wings, perhaps. Jessie wondered at this possibility as she regarded their latest member – maybe, if he and Barret didn’t kill each other first. Jessie hadn’t even heard his name before Tifa – something like their operator – pushed them all out of the bar, unwilling Barret pouting like a baby. Tifa’s childhood friend or something. Looking for a job. A mercenary.

 The newcomer looked around himself, at the desolate train station. Nobody ever got off the train in this corner of Sector One Slums. People who didn’t live here had no business to; people who did had no money.

 “C’mon, newcomer. Follow me.” Barret grunted. The stranger followed without a word. Jessie figured he was either shy or uninterested. Probably the latter, judging by the quality of the silence. It wasn’t scruffy like it would be, if he was nervous.

 His hair was soft blonde, and it was sticking out in messy spikes at all directions. That might have looked unimaginably comical on other people – Jessie mused. On him, though, not so much. Most people would notice his eyes first. Large, fragile blue the color of the summer sky at its brightest. He wasn’t so tall. Just a little bit taller than Jessie herself, but he didn’t seem to have too much of a problem carrying that giant monster of a sword on his back. Jessie had stared at it for a full minute with her mouth open the first time she met him. Which was maybe three hours ago.

 So, basically a complete stranger. Hopefully not for long, though, if –

Jessie’s thoughts were cut short when two guards appeared out of nowhere. Damn – how had she missed the door on the wall? It must have been the guard office. Jessie braced herself for another kick, but the collision never came.

 She blinked in confusion. She was staring at nothing; where the two guards used to be was just the same black air that haunted every breath of the slums in Midgar. They had disappeared.

 A low whistle. Jessie snapped her head at Biggs, who was staring at the ground near the mercenary’s feet. She followed his gaze, and found the two guards lying motionless there. Crumpled pathetically, but no blood. The newcomer hadn’t even drawn out his sword. Jessie frowned, and Biggs chuckled beside her.

 “Wow, you used to be in SOLDIER all right. Not every day you find one in a group like AVALANCHE.”

 Wait. What?

 Jessie snapped her head up again, looking from the newcomer to Biggs, then back again.

 “SOLDEIR? Aren’t they the enemy? What the hell is he doing with us?” She narrowed her eyes. Biggs’ hand was already on her shoulder, reassuring.

 “Hold it, Jessie. He _was_ in SOLDIER. He quit them and now is one of us. Didn’t catch your name...”

 Biggs lifted his eyebrows under his long fringes. The newcomer hesitated for a moment, then a quiet voice echoed off the empty walls.

 “ … Cloud Strife.”

Biggs grinned. “Cloud, eh? That’s an unusual name. I’m...”

 “Don’t bother.”

 It was like a sudden splash of cold water, shocking you into rage. Jessie scowled. She should have known. Cloud didn’t see her expression, though, as his gaze was wandering somewhere over Biggs’ head.

 “I won’t see you again after this job’s over.”

 Jessie opened her mouth. She had such a good comeback ready, she really did, but Barret’s hushed shouts – if that was even possible – interrupted them. His shadow loomed over them as he came back, teeth gritted.

 “The hell you all doin'!? I thought I told you never to move in a group!”

 “Sorry.” Jessie grunted. There was no one around right now, but someone might have heard the commotion. Barret shook his head in exasperation.

 “Our target’s the North Mako Reactor. We’ll meet on the bridge in front of it. Jessie, open the door.”

 “No problem.” Jessie grumbled, pushing Cloud out of her mind. If he didn’t care, then she didn’t care either. Whatever.

 The gate to Sector One opened with a rusty creak, and Jessie held the door as Biggs and Wedge ran through. Barret was about to go, too, when he turned sharply back to Cloud. Cloud stopped and glared up at Barret. Or maybe that was just him looking up – Jessie couldn’t tell.

 “Ex-SOLDIER, huh? Let’s make somethin’ clear. We don’t trust ya.” Barret said with narrowed eyes. Cloud didn’t even bother to shrug.

 “Barret, let’s go already. My arm’s falling off.” Jessie whined, and Barret’s glare briefly brushed her, muttering under his breath. Jessie waited with an exaggerated sigh for Cloud to go through, making it _very_ clear that she didn’t care about him one way or another. She had her eyes closed just for the effect. But instead of the sound of Cloud running past, she felt the weight of the door gone. Startled, Jessie opened her eyes to find Cloud holding the door instead of her. He was staring at her without saying anything, and Jessie shook her wrists a few times to get the senses back. She cleared her throat to dissolve the awkward confusion inside her head. Then Cloud jerked his chin to where Barret had disappeared, and Jessie felt a little dazed. That was unexpected. What happened to Mister too-cool-to-know-your-name, then?

 “Right. Uh, thanks.” Jessie murmured as she hesitantly walked past him.

 And why was she flushed? Damn it. And who names their kid after a heavy cluster of water in the sky? Except it kind of (really) fit him, Jessie thought, and almost tripped over a stone.


	2. Chapter 2

The First Bombing

-

 The reactor was glowing in sickly green. The air also tasted the same color as Cloud stepped through the small hole they had made in the fence surrounding the reactor. There was a bridge in front of them, and through that door was the real deal. Then it would smell _really_ green. The smell of Mako always nauseated him to the core. How he had managed through SOLDIER was a question he didn’t dare think about. Every SOLDIER was infused with small doses of Mako to enhance their physical strength.

 A plump man stopped in front of the door. Cloud remembered him introducing himself as Wedge, right before they left Tifa’s bar.

 “I’ll secure the escape passage,” he said.

 The leader, a bulky, dark man with beard like a bandit and a machine gun for an arm – literally – nodded his approval.

 “Awright, Wedge. Be careful.”

 “Geez, we’re really gonna blow this huge furnace up? That will be somethin’ to see!” Wedge whispered excitedly, and there was a strange glint in the boyish brown of his eyes. Open curiosity that somehow left Cloud feeling agitated. It reminded him of something he couldn’t remember.

 The inside of the reactor was as green as he imagined. It was humming, pumping, like an angry beast. The lazy weight of Mako hung in the air as he breathed it in. Tainted with green. Green everywhere it made his head spin. He tried to look only at the path he was walking. A long metal bridge that led to the core of the reactor. It didn’t look very sturdy, did it? Cloud frowned. What if it fell, and he fell, down into the green flames, hands clutching at nothing...

 “Yo! This your first time in a reactor?”

 Cloud flinched. He hadn’t realized that his heart was beating so fast. He composed his expression, and looked up slowly. He lifted one eyebrow at Barret’s smug face.

 “No. After all, I did work for Shinra, you know.”

 As if the glint of Mako in his eyes wasn’t proof enough. Barret frowned, but continued on with his speech.

 “The Planet's full of Mako energy. It's the life blood of this Planet, but Shinra keeps suckin' the blood out with these weird machines…”

 “Yeah, I know.” Cloud interrupted him. Something inside him was rolling over itself. He wanted to close his eyes, and pull darkness between him and all these green. “I’m not here for a lecture. Let’s just hurry.”

 Barret finally fell silent. It was an offended silence, one that promised much venom in the future, but Cloud didn’t really care. Like he said, he was done and out of here once they blew up the reactor or whatever.

 They finally got to the end of the bridge, and a tall girl – Jessie, was it? - stepped in front of Cloud.

 “Biggs and I got the code for this door.”

It seemed like Biggs, an easy-looking guy with a lazy drawl, was staying behind to secure the escape path. As soon as they all stepped through, he held up his hand.

 “Well, I’ll be here, then. Have fun.”

 “We’ll be right back.” Jessie said. She, Barret and Cloud walked on ahead. Cloud wondered why they hadn’t encountered anyone yet. Or any _thing_ , because big reactors like these were sometimes guarded by unmanned robots. Big ones, too. Cloud wondered if he should tell them, then decided against it. They probably already knew.

 The elevator was big, as it was meant for transportation of Mako. The door screeched closed, and Cloud felt the familiar fear gripping his heart. _Locked. No way out..._ The familiar crush of bone against the bars, then the unbearable weight in the chest. Panic. Cloud couldn’t remember where he got his claustrophobia, but over the time he learned the trick of ignoring those fears by dumping them in some unused corner of his mind and locking them away. They were never really gone, though. Muted, but never gone.

 “Push that button over there, Cloud.”

 Jessie pointed behind where Cloud stood. There were too many buttons – Cloud frowned for a second, wondering if Jessie was testing him, then pushed the biggest one. Fortunately, the elevator started to whirr and move. As if on cue, Barret resumed his lecture.

 “Little by little the reactors'll drain out all the life. And that'll be that.” He said.

 “It's not my problem.” Cloud answered nonchalantly, because it wasn’t. Barret didn’t get it.

 “The planet's dyin', Cloud!” He shouted, gesticulating wildly. Cloud didn’t like how Barret’s hulking body weight made the elevator smaller and smaller. How far were they going up anyway? Or down? Cloud looked uncertainly at the numbers climbing up on the panel. Something stuck in Cloud’s throat, like a stone that was burning. He forced his voice out around it to distract himself.

 “The only thing I care about is finishin' this job before security and the Roboguards come.”

 “The what guards?” Barret frowned. In that same moment, the elevator bell dinged and the door opened up to reveal two robots staring right back at them.

 It took three seconds for them to register them as intruders. Then the firing began, and the automatic defensive shooting shook the elevator.

 “Get out!” Cloud yelled as he dodged a bullet. He drew out his sword. It clicked off the magnetic hook, the weight reassuring in his grip. He felt the Mako-tainted air brush his ears as he darted forward. The metal armor of the Roboguards sparked and crumpled under his sword. He heard gunshots. Barret had taken care of the other one. When Cloud looked up, Barret was frowning at him. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but shrugged and turned away. Jessie sad instead, “cool moves, Cloud.”

 Cloud didn’t know how to answer, so he didn’t. He slung his sword onto his back again. _Click._ The movement had cleared up his head somewhat. He felt lighter as he walked behind Jessie.

 “I’ll stay here, in case more of those… Roboguards, come.” Jessie said at the base of the core, eyeing the steps upward. Cloud almost said that he would, too, but Barret was pushing him in the back and up the stairs. Great. More closed space. Cloud opened the door reluctantly and stepped through. The air was thicker here – thick with Mako. Even Barret shook his shoulders a few times as if to shake off the phantom weight. Cloud felt the air catch in his throat. He was afraid to let it get to the lungs. How long could a SOLDIER go on without breathing?

 “Cloud, you set the bomb.” Barret said suddenly, handing over a small silver device. Cloud searched Barret’s face with suspicion.

 “Why? Shouldn’t _you_ do it?”

 “Jus’ do it, dammit! I gotta watch to make sure you don’t pull nothin’,” he growled.

 “Fine. Be my guest.” Cloud muttered and took the device.

Then the green turned into red. It happened so suddenly. Like blood was pouring out of his eyes, and everything was red, just for a second.

 “What?” He breathed, trying to scrape some air that wasn’t laced with too much Mako. He felt his head spin, blinking dumbly.

 “What?” Barret repeated, alarmed, and started looking around himself. Cloud realized that a bomb was in his hands. Suddenly everything was so surreal, like he was watching from a dream, slower than usual…

 “Didn’t someone say,” Cloud tried to formulate a sentence, make sense of his whereabouts. Barret was frowning and saying something, his rasping voice hard against his ear, but the meaning didn’t register. And that wasn’t the only thing he was hearing.

 It was a voice – a familiar, no, a strange voice. Strange, because he couldn’t say who it belonged to. Familiar, because...

 Cloud strained to make out the words. What was it saying? All muddled. Confused. Red flickering with green dots. I am holding a bomb in my hands. Why am I holding a bomb in my hands? Wait, the voice, there again.

 Watch out.

 Then it was gone.

 “ … so, what’s wrong?”

 Barret’s voice suddenly sounded loud and clear in his ears. Cloud blinked up at him. Blinked at his surroundings, which had returned to the normal hue of green. No red, no voices. No swirling.

 “Huh?”

 “What’s wrong, Cloud? Hurry it up!”

 Barret said, a little impatient. Cloud shook his head. Right, the bomb in his hands.

 “Yeah, sorry.”

 Cloud set the bomb for thirty minutes. It had taken roughly eight minutes to get here, including fighting off the Roboguards, so that should be enough time. The beeping started.

 And so did the alarm.

 “Damn, they know we’re here! Heads up!” Barret cursed and shot out of the door. Cloud followed gladly, only to be confronted with three Roboguards, and one big machine guard that looked like a scorpion.

 “Barret, I’ll take the Guard Scorpion!” Cloud yelled as he slashed at its tail with metal spikes sticking out. Barret was already roaring, the sound of his gun-arm hot in his ears. Cloud dodged as the Guard Scorpion breathed out bullets, and kept his body lowered. He ran, went for the underside. A bullet clattered against his sword as he held it up at the last moment, the blade wide enough to cover his face. He struck, swinging the buster sword for maximum impact. The crunching. The electric buzz that exploded in a little fire. Squeaking of metal – but it didn’t go down that easy.

 Cloud rolled over on the ground as more shots were fired, leaving a smoking trail, burning the green air. He got up quickly, jumping up this time. He went for the head, straight. Twisted his body at the last moment, the momentum alone carrying the blade. As he fell, the blade sliced the machine from the head. With a last electric spark, it lay still.

 He turned to help Barret finish off the last guard. As it fell down, broken, Cloud’s eyes fell on the watch on Barret’s good arm.

 “Damn.” He muttered.

 “What now?” Barret growled.

 “We have five minutes until detonation.”

 “What the hell?”

 Those were the last words. Barret and Cloud stumbled over the fallen machines, racing through the bridge, Barret cussing loudly all the while. They came upon Jessie in the middle of the bridge, who looked confusedly at them for an explanation.

 “Jessie, what are you doin’? Mister Genius here tells me we have five... four minutes to detonation!”

 Barret yelled as he ran past. Jessie yelped and followed Barret, jumping over a low fence and practically sliding down the long ladder. Cloud followed suit, just a step behind. There was a clock ticking inside his head, counting down the minutes. Three minutes now…

 Biggs had just finished opening the door when they reached it.

 “Let’s go!” He held it open. Cloud ran through, following the shadow of Barret. The world was shaking. His feet barely touched the ground. The second they did, he leaped again. Long strides with green air swooshing past the ears. He retraced the path they traveled earlier, stopping at the first door they unlocked. One minute, now…

 Biggs started pushing the buttons as soon as he reached it. Heavy breaths. His fingers were trembling. _Damn_ , he murmured under his breath. Cloud didn’t tell him to hurry up. He counted the seconds in his head.

 The door opened with a faint _beep_. Biggs reached out to open it, but Cloud swung the handle first. He held it open as they all ran through. No more time for words. Jessie was out, then she turned immediately, waited for Cloud. He stepped through the door and tried to close it behind him. The door was too heavy… it took too long to close. Barret grunted as he ran over to help Cloud push. The door beeped. His mind tripped over his senses as he turned right back. Barret followed. His instincts led the way. He stumbled through the door leading outside, and fresh air greeted him.

 Wedge was waiting by the bridge. Instead of explaining, Barret just jumped over him, knocking both of them to the ground. Wedge squirmed. Biggs pulled Jessie down as well. Cloud flung himself to the wet grass. Had it been raining?

 The reactor exploded.

 For a moment, the world was strangely silent. Cloud thought he felt a wave of heat that scraped past the back of his head. This second was slow. In the stillness, behind closed eyes, he only heard himself breathe. He counted his breaths. Colorless air pumping in and out of him.

 They were silent for a long while, even after the initial explosion died down.

 “That should keep the Planet going... at least a little longer.” Biggs muttered. That sentence hung in the air as Cloud watched with vacant detachment the remnants of the reactor. Burning up in flames, the green flames. They colored the night sky orange.

 “All right, now let’s get out of here.” Barret composed himself first, jumping up to his feet from where they were all sitting. They followed him, brushing the wet grass off themselves. Barret stood tall, examining the firework show they had made.

 “Rendezvous at Sector 8 station! Split up and get on the train!”

 Apparently they had all done this before. Biggs, Wedge and Jessie nodded and started running off in separate directions. Jessie’s shadow was the first to disappear among the trees.

 “Hey, wait!” Cloud shouted after Barret as he started running, too.

 “What?” Barret turned an irritated eye toward Cloud. “If it’s about your money, save it ‘till we’re back at the hideout.” He grumbled, and soon disappeared through the invisible road in the forest. Cloud was left alone in the clearing. Him, and the chilly air that clung to the bare skin of his arms. Some parts of his clothes were still a little wet from the rain-soaked grass.

 “And I’m supposed to just take your word for it.” Cloud talked to the empty shadow of Barret. Nobody answered. He figuredhe had no choice but to go to… Sector 8 Station, was it? Although he had no idea where that was. He started moving his feet. The trees wailed in the sudden gush of wind.

 Sometimes he thought he saw someone watching him in the darkness, but he never turned his head to check. He was afraid there would be no one there. Just the wind, or the silent night.

-

 Soon, Cloud found his way to the city square. It was a pitiful excuse for a square in a pitiful city. The buildings around it were broken or in the process of breaking. The night hung in heavy cobwebs of darkness, but Cloud had a feeling that it would be dark even during the brightest day. It would normally be quiet, Cloud guessed, but not right now. He supposed the news of the explosion had already reached the city’s complicated veins underplate. People were whispering, running around. More than once Cloud picked up the word _AVANLANCHE_ breathed out in hushed wonder. He carefully made his way through the people, willing himself to become invisible.

 Except, a girl was approaching him from the far end of the square.

 “Hey, sorry…”

 “Me?” Cloud said, looking around. The girl had a light smile playing at her lips. Soft brown hair, green eyes that reminded him of forests – forests not real, in dreams. She was holding a loosely knit basket with flowers in it; yellow flowers that looked like the sun the slums had lost.

 “Yes, you. Can you tell me what happened? What’s everyone going on about?” Her laugh was soft like her smile. And for some reason, Cloud didn’t feel like telling her that the city’s reactor had just exploded. That he was the one who’d done it. He shook his head slowly instead.

 “No, I don’t know anything.” He paused, waiting for the girl to walk away, for it to be a silent passing that would mean nothing years from now.

 Except she didn’t go. Cloud felt a silly kind of panic rise to his chest, a thought that maybe she was waiting for him to say something, so he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “Don’t see many flowers around here.”

 His eyes were fixed on the blur of yellow in her basket, refusing to meet her eyes. Her gaze followed his, and she carefully picked one flower out of many and held it in front of him. Her smile was golden this time.

 “I know. Do you like them? They’re only a gil...?”

 “Uh, sure.” Cloud murmured as he dug around his pocket for change. The hard texture of a coin was exchanged for the brittle yellow petals.

 “For your loved one.” The girl smiled as she closed Cloud’s hand around the stem of the flower that she had wrapped in a piece of newspaper. Then she was walking away, the complex alleys soon hiding her from view. Cloud stood there some more, wondering what to do with the flower he held in his hand. A few people glanced at him as they hurried past. Realizing that he was probably looking like an idiot, Cloud started walking again. Fortunately he soon discovered a battered sign that read ‘Sector 8’.

-

 Eventually Cloud reached a three-way intersection. A railroad track was running out from a tunnel beneath the bridge. Cloud let out a muffled sigh. That there was a train track there meant that he could probably reach the station if he followed it. He reminded himself to be pissed off at Barret when they met up, for making him wander around in an unfamiliar city.

 Cloud moved his feet closer to the edge of the bridge and peered down. Now, if he could figure out just which way the track went…

 “Hey! You there!”

 An unfamiliar voice, but it was also something very familiar. Cloud snapped his head around to find himself surrounded by a bunch of people. Identical masks and helmets were all covering their expressions.

 “Shinra soldiers?” Cloud murmured, frowning. What business did they have with him?

 “That’s him!” Someone shouted. They moved a step closer, guns pointing at Cloud.

 Even as adrenaline rushed through his veins instinctively, Cloud couldn’t help but be confused. What did Shinra want with him? Didn’t they get it, that he _quit_?

Except, maybe, quitting wasn’t an option anymore. Come to think of it, Cloud had never met anyone who’d quit Shinra. He frowned, some piece of forgotten memory scratching at the back of his head.

 “That’s as far as you go.” Someone called as they moved closer to Cloud. Cloud found himself backing away, but then the heel of his feet hit the low fence of the bridge. He heard distant rumbling as the earth beneath him shook. The train was approaching from the right.

 That gave him an idea. He couldn’t have fought, anyway, with a yellow flower in his hand. Cloud strained his ear for the sound of the train. Was it close enough? The soldiers were inching closer cautiously, like he was a dangerous beast they had finally cornered. Maybe he was. Something about this situation was strangely familiar to him. Finally, Cloud decided that enough will have to be enough.

 “Grab him!” One of the soldiers shouted. Three closest to him started to move forward, but they were too slow. They lunged for him, but he was gone already. There was a short moment in which his feet touched the air, feeling it try to grab his ankles. He couldn’t see their expressions. They were wearing their helmets, in any case, and the moment passed too quickly. Seconds later, he landed on top of the train racing past. He stumbled and felt gravity trying to pull him apart, but held on. A tunnel was approaching. He ducked just in time. It just barely scraped the end of his hair. The wind hurt his ears.

 Out of the tunnel, he straightened, looking over his shoulder to the spot where he had leaped from. The soldiers were still standing about, looking his way. Cloud thought he smiled a little, but it was swept away by the wind too quickly.

-

 “Cloud never came.” Wedge mused, fingering the device he was working on. It looked like a harmless toy, but Jessie knew better. Then she frowned at his words.

 “Wonder if he was killed?” Biggs said casually, and Jessie flinched. Sometimes Biggs freaked her out by his nonchalance about, well, everything.

 Jessie was crumpled between two large black suitcases. They were traveling in the luggage car, again, and she thought that the air was more suffocating than usual.

 “No way.” Barret said simply, from where he sat still like he was the largest luggage in the car.

 There was a loud noise at the roof of the car. Wedge rolled his eyes upward, as if that could tell him what it was. Jessie played with the end of her ponytail. Her thoughts were strangely empty.

 “Say, do you think Cloud’s…” Biggs started again, and Jessie shot him a black look.

 “He ain’t dead, Biggs. You said he was ex-SOLDIER, right?”

 “I know, Jess. I was wondering if he was going to fight for AVALANCHE.” Biggs lifted his eyebrow at Jessie. She shrugged. She hoped he would. It would be… a valuable addition. What with his skills, and… yes.

 Biggs looked at Barret next. Barret shifted in his stony position uncomfortably.

 “The hell would I know? I look like a mind reader?” He grumbled as he drummed his large fingers on a nearby crate. Jessie thought about mentioning the words ‘ _fragile, handle with care_ ’ on the side of that crate, but didn’t bother. She shrugged again.

 “If y’all weren’t such screw-ups…” Barret didn’t finish that sentence. Biggs smirked, leaning back against the wall. Jessie mimicked his lopsided smile. So Barret thought they needed Cloud as well.

 “But what about his money?” Wedge frowned.

 “Maybe he got lost or something.” Jessie thought out loud, and earned some incredulous looks from the others.

 A louder bang, and closer too.

 Then the window opened. Wind gushed through.

 “Cloud!” Wedge screamed. Jessie snapped up her head.

 Cloud was swinging into the room, one arm holding the windowsill for support.

 “Cloud?” She called dumbly. Even Barret made some gurgling noise as he stared at the ex-SOLDIER turned mercenary, hopefully about to turn terrorist. It was a surprised silence, tinged with disbelief and maybe shock, too. Jessie stared as Cloud stepped through, closed the window behind him, straightened his shirt and found an empty spot near the window. He settled down as if he had been there all along, and not just arrived from outside a moving train.

 This all happened very quickly.

 Realizing that they were all looking at him, Cloud hesitantly opened his mouth. Jessie hoped he was about to explain.

 “Looks like I’m a little late,” he said.

 “You damn right, you’re late!” Barret shook his head, exasperated. “Come waltzin’ in here makin’ a big scene!” He rolled his eyes, to the effect of mountains rolling onto themselves.

 “It’s no big deal.” Cloud shrugged, brushing Barret off. Barret wasn’t one to back down so easily, though.

 “Havin’ everyone worried like that! You don’t give a damn ‘bout no one but yourself!” He fumed.

 There was a slight pause. Jessie flicked her gaze from Cloud to Barret, then back again. Cloud had his eyes screwed, like he was concentrating on something really hard. For a while no one said anything. Barret was still red, but it was taking more and more effort to remain that way. Cloud didn’t snap, or yell back, or jump out of the window again, like Jessie half-expected him to. He just sat there, staring. Jessie found that was more unnerving. The train shook from time to time, but the tension in the air didn’t. It remained there like it had stones strapped to keep it from darting out the window.

 When Cloud finally opened his mouth again, Jessie had been considering jumping out the window herself.

 “You were worried about me?”

 Cloud’s eyebrows rose slightly. The pale blue of his eyes reflected off the dim light, shivering.

 Silence. The train kept rumbling.

 Biggs was the first to burst into laughter. Shortly after, Wedge followed. Jessie felt her own giggles rising, tickling her chest. She looked over at Barret, then couldn’t contain it anymore. She fell over from laughter, clutching her stomach. She hit her elbow on the luggage as she fell. It hurt, but she couldn’t stop laughing.

 “ _What?”_ Barret roared. He started thumping on the crates again, and something definitely broke this time.

 The laughter shook the small compartment. Wedge wiped a tear from his eyes. Barret was fuming, smoke coming out of his ears... and Cloud sat in the middle of it all, expression as solid as ever. He had his arms crossed, looking at Barret with an unreadable face. Jessie hiccupped into another burst of laughter.

 “I’m... I’m, takin’ outta your _money_ , hot stuff!!” Barret roared.

 And Jessie couldn’t possibly say why this was so funny, but it was. She rolled over into another fit. Barret graced her with a deathly glare.

 “Come on! We’re movin’ out!” He shouted as he stomped out. The train was slowly coming to a stop. The screeching noises. Jessie took a breath to calm herself.

 “Hey, Cloud! You were great back there...” Wedge whispered as he hurried after Barret. Biggs was next. He clapped Cloud on the shoulder, still smirking silently. He soon disappeared through the doors in between compartments. The train was still moving, but very slowly. It would stop soon.

 “Hey, Cloud?” Jessie called from behind. Cloud, who was just about to follow Biggs out, turned. His expression was still cryptic. Everything about Cloud was a puzzle. You never knew what to expect, what to figure.

 Jessie was going to grin, maybe give a thumb-up for making Barret explode all over the place like that, when she spotted a dark smudge on Cloud’s face. Must have been from the... top of the train, or something. It was just below his left eye. It was hidden by the shadow before, but in full light the contrast was clear. He had such a pale skin. Gave Jessie the impression of withering away, now more so with the ash smudges.

 “Uh, you have something on your face,” then she added, “ _hot stuff,”_ trying to keep the laughing to the minimum. Cloud was frowning, searching his face with his hand. His fingers traced somewhere near his nose.

 “No, it’s...” Jessie finally reached over to locate the smudge for Cloud, after watching him fumble. Her fingers touched the skin under his eye. It was just ash. She brushed it off. Cloud blinked, a startled look briefly passing through his airy expression. A moment of pause, then, “Thanks,” he said. His face had returned to normal.

Jessie realized, quite abruptly, that they were standing so much closer than she thought.

 “Uh, yeah. Sure. Glad you could join us.” She said quickly, stepping back. She tried to look natural as she put some distance between them, suddenly afraid of something she couldn’t name. Cloud’s eyes followed, unreadable emotion rising and then falling.

 “Yeah,” he said simply, and then walked out.

 Jessie thought she saw a smile, a faint one, the kind that wouldn’t normally be called smiles. Even that, she couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was the beginning of a smile.

The train finally came to a standstill.

-

 “Last train out of Sector 8 station. Last stop is Sector 7, Train Graveyard. Expected time of arrival is 12:23 A.M, Midgar Standard Time.”

 The announcement echoedthroughout the train platform. Not many people were still around, this late at night. Wedge had explained to Cloud that taking the luggage car was for precaution, what with the _crime scene_ not far from the station. Biggs said that was a lie, they took the luggage car because they didn’t want to buy tickets.

 “ _Couldn’t_ ,” Jessie corrected, looking around. She nodded, looking content. “Great. Not many people… means we actually get to travel in one car, right, Barret?”

 Barret grunted.

 “As for the earlier question, we _couldn’t_ buy the tickets, because it’d be too dangerous to be buying stuff with our real IDs. We _are_ terrorists, you know.” Jessie flashed Cloud a wide grin. Cloud nodded.

 “An’ we don’t hafta _parade_ that around, crackhead.” Barret snarled, looking around himself. They were alone in a wide area. The rumbling started in a distance.

 “Chill, Barret. No one heard that.” Jessie gave an easy shrug.

 The train arrived shortly after. As they filed in, Cloud’s ears caught a trail of a conversation. Two men, talking and gesturing at the newspaper. They had a tired businessman look about them. Cloud thought they might be working for the Shinra.

 “You see the headlines in the Shinra Times?” One of the man was saying, stepping into the train. The other shrugged.

 “About the Reactor? Of course I did.”

 The doors closed behind them. The train began to whistle. The first man found himself a seat. He shook his head.

 “The terrorists… they say they’re based somewhere in the slums. Makes you question…”

 “What the hell am I doing here, right?” The second man let out a short laughter. Cloud saw Biggs lean against the wall beside the two men, snickering to himself.

 The stranger, oblivious to the fact that he was in fact sitting in front of the said terrorist group, kept on talking.

 “Blowing up a Reactor! They sure put some thought into this one. They must have a real calculating leader.”

 Jessie managed to cover the laugh into a cough. Quite a violent one.

 “Miss, are you okay?” The second man in suit frowned in concern. Jessie nodded weakly, face distorted.

 “Oh, yeah. I guess I… got scared too! You know, what with the terrorists in the slums. They could be in this very car, you know!” Jessie’s eyes widened. They met Cloud’s for a moment, and Cloud was sure Jessie was going to give in, break into a fit of giggles, but she bit her lips and didn’t. She managed to keep a straight face as the man looked wildly about, eyes lingering a second longer on Barret.

 As soon as they moved into the next car, Barret snapped.

“Stop actin' like a damn kid. Si'down an’ shut up!”

“Okay, _calculating leader_.” Jessie rolled her eyes. Wedge giggled.

 They were mostly silent after that. There was no one else in the car. Cloud sat by the window, looking out the window. The blurs swept by his vision like paint smudges. It was dark. Sometimes a lone light would come and go, blurring into a long trail and erasing the reflection on the window for a little while. But the reflection always came back. Cloud stared at his own face, looking into the compartment. It looked foreign to him.

At some point he must have fallen asleep. When he suddenly woke up, everyone save for Barret was dozing. Cloud closed his eyes for a moment longer, thoughts and dreams swirling. He realized he still had the flower on him. He took it out of the inner pocket of his jacket, half-expecting it to be a dream. The flower girl, that seemed so long ago… and surreal.

 But it wasn’t. And miraculously, the petals were mostly still intact, too. Cloud stared at the yellow petals gently curving like a wave, and thought of something he couldn’t remember. He thought the shape of the flower was familiar. Not from today, but from long ago. Maybe another lifetime.

 Barret’s eyebrow rose as his eyes caught sight of the flower, but he didn’t ask and Cloud didn’t say anything. There was silence, but it wasn’t too uncomfortable.

 It was Barret who spoke first.

 “If that plate weren’t there… we could see the sky.” He said. Cloud looked past his mirror reflection and to the giant plate blocking where the sky should be. Underplate, in the Midgar slums, it was like living in a shell. Always the air threatening to crush down on you. Always the same underside of a plate where stars should be. Always dark.

 “A floating city.” Cloud considered that for a moment. Searched for the right word. He decided on _unsettling_. “Pretty unsettling scenery,” he murmured. The word wasn’t quite right, but it would do.

 “Huh? Never expect to hear that outta someone like you.” Barret said, gaze boring into Cloud. Cloud just shrugged. He didn’t bother asking what that meant. “ … You jes’ full of surprises.” Barret decided, then turned his head back to the window. His words were slow. “The upper world. A city on a plate… It’s cuz of that damn pizza that people underneath are sufferin’! And the city below is full of polluted air.”

 “Then why doesn’t everyone move onto the Plate?” Cloud wondered, without really asking. They could have made the plate big enough for everyone. They didn’t even have to make it in the first place.

“Dunno.” Barret snickered a little, as if Cloud had said something funny. “Probably ‘cuz they ain’t got no money. Or maybe ‘cuz they love their land, no matter how polluted it gets.”

 Love their land. Cloud thought about that one. “I don’t know… no one lives in the slums because they want to.” Then the rest of his thought came pouring out before he understood its meaning. “It’s like this train. It can’t run anywhere except where its rails take it.”

 He thought about that one too, and decided it made sense. So he sat back and watched the foreign reflection and the dark city beyond it.


	3. Seventh Heaven

Sector 7 Station was the same as the last one. The air was murky, being trapped beneath a plate. Darkness loomed in every corner, waiting to soak you whole. To Cloud, it looked like any other slum street, butapparently not for the other members of AVALANCHE.

 Cloud watched as the others jumped down onto the platform. He watched as their faces lost something – a burden that he hadn’tnoticed before. Biggs stretched out his arms, pleasant laziness replacing the wariness. Jessie was laughing at something that Barret said as she jumped down after Wedge. Barret was last. He straightened up on the empty platform, looking bigger than usual. Biggs, Wedge, Jessie and Barret – they were at home.

 Cloud watched all of this with a twinge of a feeling he couldn’t acknowledge. He couldn’t say that he missed home, because he didn’t have one. If _home_ meant _hometown,_ he would have to pause before he could say – in the end, he would settle for _I miss my mother_.

 Except that she wasn’t living there anymore.

 “Yo! Get over here, all’ya!” Barret called. Jessie came trotting, grinning.

 “You know, I had doubts whether I’d see this station again.” She sighed as they all gathered around Barret. Biggs lifted his eyebrow.

 “Really? This morning?” He asked. Jessie nodded a little sheepishly.

 “Quit yappin’. The mission was a success, but don’t get lazy now,” Barret warned. “The hard part’s still to come. Don’t y’all be scared of that explosion.” He directed the last part at Wedge, who squirmed a little.

“ … ‘cause the next one’s gonna be bigger than that! Awright, meet me at the hideout. Move out!” He finished, then ran off in one direction. Jessie, taking Biggs’ arm, walked the other way. Biggs draped an arm over Jessie’s shoulder. To anyone watching, they would look like an ordinary couple. It was practiced, cautionary, although there wasn’t another soul at the station. Cloud thought about that as he walked in a random direction, thinking he’d double back to the hideout after strolling around for a bit. He thought about having to lie, to live,just a way of life in the end.

-

  _Seventh Heaven_ was Tifa’s bar. It had a broken sign that was missing some parts of the letters, and small windows with thick curtains. The front porch steps squeaked dangerously as Cloud climbed them. He spotted a flier lying abandoned on the floor in front of the door. The same flier he’d occasionally spotted around the slums.

 Mako energy won’t last forever. Mako is the life of the planet. That life is finite.

 The end is coming. AVALANCHE.

 “What crappy handwriting,” Cloud muttered as he picked up the paper. Barret or someone must have dropped it there. It was like advertising that this bar was their hideout, and sort of defeating the whole point of having a _hideout_. Cloud shook his head, crumpled it up and threw it aside. Then he pushed the door open. It was dark inside.

 Jessie, Biggs and Wedge were already there. There were no other customers, which meant that they could actually sit and eat together. Jessie grinned when she saw Cloud walk in.

 “Hiya, Cloud. Didn’t come through the window this time, huh?”

 Cloud shrugged. Biggs was about to say something to that, when a loud noise interrupted him. Something, no, someone, was scrambling down the staircase that led to Tifa’s apartment upstairs.

 “Papa!”

 Cloud startled. A little girl with large brown eyes came darting into the room, a huge smile on her face;but as soon as she saw that it was Cloud and not her papa, the smile froze in place and quickly disappeared. She ran away and hid behind the curtains in front of the staircase. Cloud stood there dumbstruck, while Biggs chuckled in the back.

 Then Tifa came out of the kitchen.

 “Marlene! Aren’t you going to say anything to Cloud?” She chided, a smile hanging from her lips. She walked over to the girl. Marlene, peeking out from behind the old curtains, quickly hid behind Tifa and followed her as she made her way to Cloud.

 “Welcome home, Cloud. Looks like everything went well,” Tifa smiled, wiping her hands on her apron. “Did you fight with Barret?” She asked.

 “Not this time.” Cloud lied, for no reason at all. Somewhere in the back Jessie made a choking sound, but Tifa didn’t seem to have heard it. Her smile grew larger.

 “Really? You’ve grown up. When you were little you used to get into fights at the drop of a hat,” she laughed. Cloud didn’t have anything to say to that, mostly because it was true. “Come on, sit down for a while… what’s that, a flower?”

 Tifa looked curiously at the flower that Cloud was still holding. He had forgotten all about it, but miraculously hadn’t let it drop. Without really thinking about it, Cloud held it out to Tifa.

 “For me?” Tifa sounded surprised, and Cloud had nothing to say, really, so he nodded. “You shouldn’t have,” she said, but accepted the flower anyway. Cloud suddenly remembered that Tifa used to love making a crown or necklace with violet and white wildflowers.

 “No big deal,” Cloud said. “I remembered you liked flowers.”

 “Thanks, Cloud. I still do. Maybe I should fill the store with flowers?” She said as she started walking behind the bar to find a vase. Biggs, gulping down the last of his drink, eyed Cloud curiously.

 “Where did you get that anyway? Flowers don’t grow in Midgar anymore. At least, not in the slums,” he said.

 “I don’t know. There was this flower girl,” Cloud shrugged as he sat down in an empty chair next to Jessie. Wedge, who was sitting across from him, grinned and pushed a plate in front of Cloud. It looked like a custard of some kind, golden and looking out of place in the darkness of the bar.

 “Try this, Cloud. Tifa really knows how to cook.”

 “That she does,” Biggs agreed, putting down his empty glass and picking up Wedge’s.

 “There’s a downside, though… Tifa always lets me taste her cooking, and look at me now.” Wedge gestured at himself, expression tragic.“I’m like, roly-poly. Don’t know if I should be happy or sad,” he sighed. Jessie put on a stern face.

 “Now, Wedge. Don’t go blamin’ Tifa. You’re as _roly-poly_ as the day I first saw you.”

 Cloud broke a little piece off the custard. He recognized it; it was from home. Hometown.

Tifa came out, holding a glass jar filled with water and the flower sticking out from it.

 “I couldn’t find a vase,” she started, but was cut short when Barret thundered in.

 “Papa! Welcome home!” Marlene shot forward, giggling as Barret lifted her up on his shoulders.

“You all right, Barret?” Tifa asked. Barret grunted, but with a hint of a smile,which surprised Cloud a little. He put down Marlene gently, then turned to their table.

 “Get in here, fools! We’re startin’ the meetin’!”

 Biggs sighed, though not without affection, then got up. Jessie put down the sandwich she’d been chewing on. Soon, they disappeared down through the staircase that was hidden behind a cupboard. It slid shut soundlessly after Wedge passed through, returning to an ordinary wall. Tifa pushed the cupboard in front of the door again.

 “There’s another door going out through the backyard,” she explained, somewhat unnecessarily. Cloud didn’t say anything. “Sit down, I’ll get you a drink.” She walked behind the counter.

 The bar wasn’t big, and was dominantly dark. A few seats at the counter, a couple of sofa seats and some wooden tables. An old radio was playing in the background. The slow music seeped easily into the dimness of the bar. The light from the hanging lamp wasn’t quite enough to dismiss the heavy shadows in the corners. The woods creaked and wind gushed through the cracks in the walls. Tifa was now humming to the melody of the song. Glasses clattered. She poured a glass and slid it across to Cloud. The liquid was clear gold, like sunset. Cloud recognized this too.

 “Nibel Dews?” He guessed. A sip, and it brought back time;the sun, the snow that would never melt in the mountains of Nibelheim. Tifa smiled as she poured herself a glass too.

 “For old time’s sake. Except last time, it was illegal.”

 “And you passed out,” Cloud said, remembering. Dizzy, merry dance, burning their throats and stomachs. He really _had_ thought that it was apple juice, though no one believed him anyway. It got him into a lot of trouble. As if he’d needed more.

 “Yeah… and my father banned me from talking to you. Again.” Tifa laughed softly. Cloud remembered. He took another sip. It wasn’t so dizzying now. A lot of time had passed. Alcohol couldn’t really affect him. The Mako absorbed it all.

 Still, it wasn’t so bad. Sour, a little bitter, but not so bad. It tasted like reminiscence.

-

Jessie had turned on the TV in the basement. Cloud took one look around the room;papers, attack plans, maps were scattered everywhere on a big table. Wedge and Biggs sat around it, and Barret was working on a punching bag at the far corner. Cloud glanced at the TV screen: a footage of the reactor blowing up.

 “… Number One Reactor has blown up, and the terrorist group AVALANCHE has claimed responsibility for the bombing. It is expected that AVALNCHE will continue this reign of terror…” the TV was saying. Biggs smirked at the choice of words.

Then came an interview with the president of Shinra. Barret’s punches got more violent.

 “Citizens of Midgar, there is no need to fear.”

 He was a plump man, and he looked plumper on the screen, Cloud noted with dull interest. Cameras flashed as the president continued. “I have immediately mobilized SOLDIER to protect our citizenry against this senseless… violence. Thank you, and good night.”

 Jessie turned the TV off. Barret’s punches stopped for a moment, as he looked back at Cloud. He held the swinging punching bag with a hand.

 “Yo, Cloud. There’s somethin’… Was there anyone from SOLDIER fighting us today?”

 Cloud stared for a moment to see if Barret was joking or not (he could never tell), but apparently he wasn’t. Cloud shook his head. “None. I’m positive.”

 “You sound pretty sure.” Barret narrowed his eyes. Cloud met his gaze with an unyielding one.

 “If there was anyone from SOLDIER you wouldn’t be standing here,” he said matter-of-factly; it was true.

Except, for some reason, that seemed to send Barret over the edge. All of a sudden, he was lunging to grab Cloud, and Biggs was in front of him. Cloud took a step back. Biggs managed to hold on to Barret’s arm, but only for a short while. Barret threw him off his arm.

 “Guys! Calm down!” Tifa was yelling, appearing out of nowhere, running in between Barret and Cloud. Barret stopped mid-track, seething with rage. Everything happened so quickly. Cloud watched without a word. His heart was beating a little faster at the sudden rush of action.

 “Yeah, you’re strong. Probably all them guys in SOLDIER are.” Barret spat. Cloud just stared, not understanding. What was this about, anyway? “But don’t forget that your skinny ass’s workin’ for AVALANCHE now! Don’t get no ideas ‘bout hangin’ on to Shinra…”

 “What?” Cloud blinked. Second ticked, as Barret’s words started to make sense,then fire started building up in his chest too. Slowly, he felt his head get heavy, like there was something – burning, sizzling, trying to break free.

 “Staying with Shinra?” He repeated. Almost too softly, but the room was quiet. He could hear every breathing, the noise of the traffic above ground, water running next door. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t _not_ hear it. Mako. SOLDIER.

 Barret had no idea what the hell he was talking about.

 “You asked me a question, and I answered it. That’s all,” he said quietly. There was rage in his chest,like he had to explode, the kind that didn’t really make sense. He wanted to take out his sword, slash everything, every piece of paper, the door, the floor, everything. Every breath he took was burning. The feeling was so intense it was almost alien.

 But it was familiar, too. He knew, distantly, that this rage wasn’t meant for Barret. Not really. Shinra was what had ruined him. Ruined all the things he had and cared about. Rationally, he knew;so he willed himself to turn away slowly, trying to control his breathing.

 “I’m going upstairs. Pay me the wage, then I’m gone. You won’t see me again.”

 No one said anything. Cloud briefly wondered what he looked like now. His chest and head felt hot and heavy. Also – somehow – broken. There was a large crack through the middle of his heart and nothing could fix it.The worst was that he felt the crack widening, day by day, andhe wished there was something he could do.

 But he didn’t even know what had cracked him in the first place.

-

 “Cloud!” Tifa called from behind him. Cloud was just about to push open the door and be gone, away from everything that hurt his head. But Tifa was calling. He reluctantly turned back to face her.

 “Tifa…” He started, but Tifa shook her head.

 “Listen, Cloud. I’m asking you. Please join us.”

Cloud watched the amber in her eyes flicker, like he’d done a million years ago. His voice came out quiet. “I’m sorry, Tifa…”

 “The planet is dying. Someone has to do something… please, Cloud?” Tifa grabbed his arms as if she was afraid he’d fly away. Cloud could have shaken her off with no effort at all. Except he really couldn’t. He shook his head instead.

 “So let Barret and his buddies do something about it.” As he spoke, images of Biggs, Wedge and Jessie flashed and then withered in front of his eyes. They’d been nice;he had found himself beginning to like their company; but since when could Cloud keep people he liked? They all left him. Or he left them. “It’s got nothing to do with me,” he added.

 That was supposed to be the final words. Tifa’s hand dropped as if she were punched. Cloud watched her for a second longer, then turned away. He had just taken a step forward when Tifa’s words cut at the back of his head like a blade.

 “So you’re really leaving? You… you’re just going to walk right out, ignoring your childhood friend?”

 “What?” Cloud turned back. To his horror, he found her eyes glistening. Cloud opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out.

 Tifa blinked. The glisten was gone. Cloud wondered if he had imagined it.

 “You forgot the promise, too,” she was saying.

 “Promise?” Cloud repeated, frowning. Something scraped his mind, a piece of memory, but he couldn’t place it.

 “So you _did_ forget.” Tifa sighed. Then she looked up at Cloud with renewed vigor. Something, maybe some brand of desperation, crossed her face.“Remember, Cloud. It was seven years ago. The… the well. Do you remember?”

 The well.

 The well came back first; a dry, abandoned well. No one came by, no one knew it even existed anymore. Except for Cloud and Tifa.

 They went there often, especially after Tifa’s father had banned her from setting eyes on _the damn boy_ again, time and time again. They went there anyway. Nibelheim was cold, but near spring or autumn, at night, sometimes the wind was soft. There would be thousands of stars, sprinkled across the whole sky, blue and violet and silver and exploding into glittering pieces of diamond. It’d been one of those nights.

 Cloud gasped at the memory as it came flooding through to his brain suddenly, as clear as if he were transported back. Right now. He didn’t know how he could _not_ have remembered. It was almost tangible now. The stars, he was looking up at them for hours and his neck hurt but he couldn’t look away. He was leaning on the side of the well, thinking about a lot of things. Wondering if his future would be what he expected. If Tifa would come. After all, it was the night of the big dance that everybody had been talking about for three months. The one that Cloud hadn’t been invited to. The wind was brushing the bare skin of his arms.

 “Yeah, I remember.” Cloud said. Tifa’s eyes widened. “Back then… I thought you’d never come, and I was getting a little cold.”

 He remembered it clearly, now. Every word that was spoken that night. Every laughter. The amber in her eyes and the stars. Millions of stars all above and around them. Like nothing else existed. Tifa was wearing a light blue dress the color of a waterfall. The folds fell around to her knees in soft cascades as she sat down next to Cloud, out of breath. She kicked off her heels as she grinned up at him.

“Sorry I’m late. Couldn’t get out fast enough.”

And Cloud had smiled back, because it didn’t matter how late she was.; she was here now. Watching her eyes, it was hard to get the words to come out right. So he looked up at the stars as he spoke.

“Come this spring… I’m leaving this town for Midgar.”

 Tifa was silent for a while. The words slowly sank in, for the both of them. Leaving the town. Leaving home, although it was only a hometown to him, andtheir childhood was going to end so abruptly.

 “All the boys are leaving our town.”

 Tifa was swinging her legs back and forth, also looking up at the stars.

 “I’m not just going to… find a job. I’m going to join SOLDIER. I’m going to be the best there is, just like Sephiroth.”

 Then no one could ever pretend that I don’t exist, look at me like I’m not there. He kept the next line to himself. There was a difference between knowing something and saying it. Tifa was quiet for a long moment. They both watched the stars.

 “Isn’t it hard to join SOLDIER?” Tifa asked. Cloud nodded. It knotted his stomach whenever he thought about exactly _how_ he was going to join SOLDIER, but he was going to be brave. He was going to work hard. It would be the one thing he did right in his life.

 “Yeah. So I probably won’t be able to come back to this town for a while. Not that anyone would miss me.”

 “… I would miss you.”Tifa said that so softly that Cloud wasn’t sure if he had heard right. It was like a whisper, swept by the wind.

 “Except you and mom, of course,” he added, and Tifa smiled.

 “Will you be in the newspapers if you do well?”

 “I’ll try.”

Then Tifa looked right at Cloud, something glittering in her eyes. She was grinning and shining like the stars in the sky.

 “Hey, why don’t we make a promise?”

 “A promise?”

 “Yeah! If you get really famous and I’m ever in a bind… You come save me, all right?”

 “What?”

 “Whenever I’m in trouble, my hero will come and rescue me. Come on, Cloud. Let a girl play princess.” She laughed. A gush of wind came running at them, messing up their hair. Tifa was looking at Cloud, her gaze unflinching. The moment stretched. Cloud finally nodded. After all, what could he do?

 “All right. I promise.”

A shooting star flashed across the sky. Cloud couldn’t tell if it was the memory, or right now; it must be the memory because there was no sky in the slums.

 “You remember now, don’t you? Our promise?” Tifa’s voice was quiet. Cloud nodded, feeling a little overwhelmed. It was the last piece of his childhood. He had left Nibelheim that very night, and as soon as he set foot on the road with nothing but a small backpack and fierce determination, at fourteen, he had lost his childhood.

 It was different now. He was broken. He wasn’t that boy anymore.

 “I’m not a hero. I’m not famous. I can’t keep… the promise.” Cloud said, not meeting Tifa’s eyes. Tifa touched his arm again, much more gently this time.

 “But you got your childhood dream, didn’t you? You joined SOLDIER. So come on! You’ve got to keep your promise.” There was a smile in her voice. Cloud looked up, opened his mouth to say something, but couldn’t. Again. Barret had chosen that moment to stomp up the stairs. He wasn’t so red anymore, Cloud noted, although he was trying to maintain his huff.

 “Wait a sec, big-time SOLDIER! A promise is a promise! Here!” He threw an envelope that Cloud caught with ease. _A promise is a promise_. What a timing. Cloud saw Tifa break into a grin. There really was nothing he could do, was there? He sighed.

 “You got the next mission lined up? I’ll do it for 3000.” He said.

 “What?” Barret was dumbstruck, forgetting to keep up his act of rage. Tifa’s smile grew wider.

 “Thanks, Cloud,” she said. Cloud nodded. “Come on, I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight.” Tifa took his arm, leading him down to the basement.

 “Damn, that money’s for Marlene’s schooling! 2000!” Barret shouted at his back.

-

 It was a dreamless sleep. When Cloud woke, Biggs, Wedge and Jessie were still sleeping around the room. Their sleeping quarters turned out to be the same one as the meeting room, which was apparently equipped with sleeping bags.

 The morning air was chilly, and a little blue. The sun hadn’t come out completely yet. Cloud climbed up the stairs, just as Tifa was coming down from her apartment where she and Marlene shared a room, as she’d told him. Barret had let her stay there in exchange for keeping the bar going and looking after Marlene. Tifa smiled when she saw him.

 “Good morning, Cloud. Did you sleep well?”

 “Yeah.” Cloud shrugged. There was a sound of something breaking at the top floor. Barret must be up.

 “Good. Hey, I’m going this time, too.” Tifa said, walking behind the bar. Cloud sat, frowning.

 “Really?” He said. Tifa laughed shortly.

 “Hey, don’t be surprised… I’ve been learning and practicing too, you know, after you left.” She said, running the water to wash some mugs.

 “What for?” Cloud asked. Tifa was about to answer, when Barret came stumbling down. He brought all the noise with him.

 “Our target’s the Sector Five Reactor. Tifa, tell the sleepyheads to head for the station first, and I’ll fill you in on the train…” Then Barret spotted Cloud. He looked surprised at finding him up and about this early.

 “Yo, Cloud,” he finally greeted, then walked out of the bar.

 Cloud thought about Barret walking alone, in the dawn, a gun for his arm and out to save the planet. It seemed that heroes came in all shapes and sizes.


	4. The Fall

“Looks like this ain’t no private car, so split up!” Barret jerked his head at Biggs, Jessie and Wedge, who started to walk further down the platform.

 Cloud followed Barret and Tifa onto the train. As the door closed behind him and the train started to rattle, his ears picked up muffled mutters. _Hoodlums again. God, don’t I just have all the luck._

Cloud followed the voice. A man in a gray suit, stealing looks, not so subtly, at Barret.Cloud wondered if this secret terrorist group thing of Barret’s was really working out. The _secret_ part, that is. He also wondered if he’d made the right choice by deciding to stick with the group. Not that he had much choice.

Cloud let out a sigh; he might as well help. He sat down next to the man in the gray suit, the monster sword (as Jessie had called it) on his lap, ostentatious. He looked at the other passengers one by one, so that they can notice the Mako in his eyes and draw their own conclusions. The gray-suit man was the first to scurry out of the car, muttering something about those _crazy young people nowadays._

 Barret, oblivious to the situation, sat down in the now-empty seat next to Cloud.

 “Yo, look at that! It got empty alluva sudden. What’s goin’ on?”

Cloud didn’t bother answering. Tifa smiled, sitting across from him.

 “So, what are we gonna do now?” Cloud asked.

 “The hell you so calm about? You bustin’ up my rhythm…” Barret complained, rustling about in his seat (it was too small for him). After a while, because Barret seemed to have forgotten his question, Cloud asked again.

 “So what’s our next target?”

 “Hah!” Barret barked. “Listen to Mr. Serious-about-his-work!”

 Cloud frowned. Maybe this secret terrorist thing wasn’t working out after all. How could it, with Barret as their leader? Cloud felt tired, opened his mouth to ask the question for the third time, when the red lights started flashing.

 They all got up in an instant. Cloud tightened his grip of the sword. The alarm was loud, piercing; the whole car blacked out, then flickered red, black, red. The train was still moving.

 “That’s odd. The ID checkpoint was supposed to be further down…” Tifa was muttering, checking her watch.

 “ _Type A security alert! Unidentified passengers confirmed. A search of all cars will be conducte_ _d,_ ” a voice boomed midst the red and black, rumbling train.

“Damn!” Barret spat. Jessie burst in from the other car, face distorted in the light. She yelled something; but the alarm was too loud, and she had to shout again.

 “We’re in trouble! I’ll explain later. Hurry! Get to the next car!”

“ _Unidentified passengers located in Car 1. Preparing to lock down._ ”

And they had no time.

 Barret slammed open the door to the next car, almost breaking it. People turned to stare. Cloud took in all the faces in one breath, then he was running, they all were, and Cloud remembered the red and green, in the Mako reactor. It felt like he were always running away from something.

 “Let’s go! Keep it up!” Barret yelled as he shoved past a surprised man. Cloud slid around him as the man stumbled. The train rattled. Tifa almost tripped and fell, but Cloud caught her before she did.

  _“Preparing to lock down Car 2_ _,_ _”_ the voice boomed, just as Barret, Tifa and then finally Cloud slid into Car 3. The door sealed shut behind him, locking down with a searing _beep_.

 “Hurry!” Biggs was suddenly in front of them and holding open the door. Barret frowned at him.

 “Biggs, you know what to do, yeah?”

 Biggs nodded tightly.

 “Just run!” Jessie shoved them all in Car 4, gritting her teeth. The alarm was so loud it hurt his head. Cloud heard one of the passengers whispering, _t_ _hey must be AVALNCHE_ , and there went their cover. He kept running.

 Car 5. There was an opening. Barret skidded to a stop. “All right, we made it! Yo, this way! We’re gonna dive outta here!”

 “Dive?” Tifa asked, chancing a glance out the window. It was all a gray and white blur. The train was still moving fast.

 “Yeah, it’s the only way out. Jessie, Biggs and Wedge are gonna stay on the train and meet us there,” Barret explained quickly, struggling with the hatch.

 “Stay? But…” Cloud looked back, dubious, but wind suddenly bit at Cloud’s face as Barret had finally managed to throw open the door.

 “They’ll be fine!” Barret yelled.

The outside was a blurring mess. It looked like they were on an above-ground railroad. The train would go around in a circle in the slums, then head up to the plates. Any minute now; escape would be harder once they were on-plate. Cloud saw that this was their only chance.

 “…Scary, huh.” Tifa said. Cloud looked up at her. Her long hair was flying wildly about, hiding her face.

“Too late to be saying that now,” he finally muttered. Wind cleared her hair; Tifa’s face remained carefully calm, but Cloud knew her (thought he did).

 Afraid. Cloud glanced down. It would be a long fall.

 “Why’d you come along anyway?” He asked suddenly. He thought she might not have heard it in the roaring wind, but she had.

 “Because…”

 “Hey, you two! There ain’t no time for that!” Barret yelled from behind. “Ain’t no time to waste, do somethin’!”

 “ _Unidentified passengers located in Car 5, preparing to lock down._ ”

 “Watch me jump.” Tifa suddenly grinned, and all traces of fear, the forced tranquility, was gone. Cloud stared at her, her eyes gleaming a little with an emotion he did not know, and then she was gone. Cloud followed her with his eyes until she disappeared in a small white dot. Then he jumped down after her.

 The freefall – he felt the air closing in around his throat, gravity pulling him down faster than he could fall. The world melted into nothing around him. Wind was choking him. And in that haze, the sears of shapes, he thought – he saw something – a face; staring back at him, like a dream. Cloud strained his eyes against the tears and the wind to get a better look, but the fall was over too quickly. All he had left was an impression of a color: bright blue (brighter than the summer sky), with shadows in the folds, deep blue shadows. He thought it could have been someone’s eyes, except that he couldn’t remember.

 Or it could just have been a figment of his imagination.

 He landed on dead leaves.

-

 “Good.So far everything’s going as planned.” Barret said unconvincingly. Cloud was too tired to object, and he thought Tifa was, too. Barret carried on. “Better not let your guard down till we get to the sector 5 reactor. Biggs, Jessie and Wedge got everything ready for us, so _move_ it.”

 Hollow echoes bounced off the empty train tunnels that, according to Barret, led to the reactor. The station was empty. It had fallen apart, tiles missing and bricks broken. A torn poster of _Loveless_ flapped in the wind on an otherwise bare advertisement board.

 “The reactor is here?” Tifa asked, looking at Barret. Cloud was following them a step behind.

 “Yeah. Just down this tunnel. Nobody uses this station no more.”

 Unfortunately, it looked like Shinra had a good back-up security system (never could blame them for carelessness); long after the guards have left their posts, the electric sensors were still working. Light beams, teal green like Mako, blocked the end of the tunnel.

 “Those light beams are the Shinra’s security sensors,” Cloud said, before Barret had the idea to march right into it. Barret stopped, looked back. Cloud frowned at the expression on Barret’s face.

“Don’t tell me our plan ends here.”

 “Well, it was Biggs and Jessie and Wedge that always did… the technical stuff…”

 “Do you know how to disable this, Cloud?” Tifa asked. Cloud moved past Barret (who was looking a little squeamish) to inspect the beams. They looked like they were still in full operation. What a waste of energy, Cloud thought. He knew better than to touch them, though. One of the first things they teach to an infantryman: never do anything we don’t tell you to do. And he saw the consequences, all right. That guy had burned instantly, fried, never spoke a word since.

 “I can’t do it. And we can’t go any further, either,” he said.

 Then something caught his eyes; a tiny air duct. There was a fan, but the electricity was down anyway. He looked closer, his breath sending dust flying. After a second of hesitation, he removed the fan, breaking it off with a loud _crack_ that echoed off the walls.

 “This leads to the other side of the barrier, I think. I suppose the reactor’s there?” He asked. Barret nodded, but shot a dubious look at the air duct encrusted with ancient dust.

 “That’s one damn tiny hole,” he said. “You tellin’ me to squeeze into that to get under the plate? No way.”

 “I think you could fit in… If you tried,” Tifa said, trying to be consoling.

 “I don’t see another way,” Cloud said.

 He wasn’t so excited about having to crawl through a tight air duct, himself. It would suffocate him; any kind of small, tight space did. But it was easier not to think about it, just get on with the job. Delay (delete) the panic. So he climbed up and into the air duct, ignoring Barret’s continuing protests (he kind of saw his point, but really, there was no other way).

 It was a long way. An eternity of gray dust so thick, embedded into every crack-line, cobwebs occasionally blocking the view. He kept crawling, though. He ignored the fear, shoved it away, didn’t think – one of these days, he was suddenly going to find himself without a heart and not even know it.

 When they finally emerged into the open air, Jessie was waiting on the other side. She only looked mildly surprised at finding them crawl through the air duct instead of walking.

 “I’m sorry,” she blurted, as soon as Cloud got out. She ran over to him, helped him brush the dust off. It flew everywhere, landing on Jessie’s hair and clothes. Tifa was next. Then Barret; his pile of dust made dust mountains in the air. “The ID scan problem on the train – it was y fault,” she said, coughing out dust.

 “What you sayin’, Jessie?” Barret narrowed his eyes.

 “Cloud’s ID card. I made it last night, and I guess – I overlooked some details.” She turned to Cloud. “Next time, I’ll give you something more decent.”

 Cloud nodded. Tifa was brushing her fingers through her long black hair, removing strings of dust.

 “Well, we all made it here, didn’t we?” She said, smiling at Jessie. “Isn’t that right, Barret?”

 “Yeah, yeah.” Barret looked resigned. “Jus’ be careful in the future, awright?”

 “Yes, boss,” Jessie said, solemnly. “I’ll be back at the hideout working on it. Good luck to you guys!” With that she ran off, and Cloud was alone with Tifa and Barret and the mountains of dust.

-

 Barret led the way from there. For a while they walked in silence; the clatter of feet against the metal walkway, the metallic jingle. Cloud not to think too much about what was beneath the (scanty, unstable) metal bridge too much. The machines, the pipes, whirring and pumping out Mako. He reminded himself that the bridge was meant to be walked on by technicians on a regular basis, so it was probably safe. Probably.

 When Barret spoke, he was glad of the distraction. “So you guys are like… childhood friends?”

 “Yeah. We’ve been friends since primary school,” Tifa said from behind Cloud.

 “Hmm.” Barret considered this for a moment. “I dunno… it just doesn’t cut the picture, you know? You and the SOLDIER boy here,” he decided. Cloud didn’t say anything.

 “Well, he wasn’t SOLDIER back then,” Tifa said diplomatically.

 “But still… I woulda pictured you with someone less…”

 “Less…?” Tifa sounded amused. Barret flung his arms about wildly (which shook the metal bridge a little, but Cloud wasn’t thinking about that), trying to pick the right adjective.

 “I dunno, sullen? Grumpy? _Robotic_?”

 “Oh, come on, Barret. Be nice. He’s right here.”

 And that was when Cloud fell down. One moment, he was fine – then the next, the world flashed white for the briefest second, then he was falling, knees giving out.

 Something flashed before his eyes.

-

  _The air was so thick, so much smoke. Smoke? Where was the fire? And – the Mako – sickening. The air was thick and green and grey and red all at the same time. Smoke pierced his eyes, his breath came short and ragged. He’d been running. No, not now, he was looking. His head felt detached to the rest of his body._

_He saw Tifa first._

_He wasn’t sure what she was doing, at fist. She was kneeling, saying something so fast, and he was hearing, but not listening. The sound of fire and death filled his ears instead. Something sparked near where he stood. He flinched. The machines were melting, exploding. Mako was burning. It revolted him._

_Then he saw Tifa’s father._

_He was lying in front of his daughter, hair disheveled in a bloody, burnt mess._

_He looked peaceful, dead._

-

  _Cloud,_

“Cloud!”

 “Damn, man, get a hold of yourself!”

 Cloud sprang up, not sure what had just happened. A memory had just flashed before his eyes. It wasn’t like remembering, either; the intensity, the reality of the vision burned him to the bone. He shivered.

 “You all right?” Tifa sounded worried.

 Cloud looked at Tifa. For a second, he saw her younger self staring back at him;just a bit rounder and softer. She had worn brown that day.

 He blinked. The illusion was gone. It was just Tifa, older and sharper.

 “ … Tifa,” hesaid.

 “Yes?”

 Cloud thought about what he could tell her. That he’d seen her and her dead father, lying in that reactor five years ago? That he didn’t know why – but he had forgotten about it, until now. Until right now, when everything came back so vividly.

 How could he have forgotten?

“Nothing.” He heard himself say. All the things he couldn’t say – they froze and crusted in his heart. In the crack-lines. He got up quickly.

 “You sure?” Tifa asked, touching his arm. Cloud nodded.

 “Yeah, forget about it. Come on, let’s hurry.” He looked at Barret. Barret looked doubtful, but nodded and led the way.

 Nothing else happened for the rest of the way. Cloud set the bomb. His hands shook a little, but the room didn’t flash red like the last time. No voices, no flashbacks. _I was probably just tired_ _,_ he decided. Not having eaten anything didn’t help either.

 “Awright, this way!” Barret quickened his pace as he led them out. The reactor was silent except for the perpetual whirring of the machines and their hurried footsteps echoing off the emptiness. Almost eerily so.

 It didn’t last very long, though.

 “What the hell?” Barret stopped short. The road straight ahead was suddenly blocked by a massive robot that hadn’t been there before. A man was walking out of its shadows. Barret and Tifa stopped walking, unsure.

 Cloud walked past Barret. He stopped just as the man came out into the green light.

 “President Shinra?” Barret said that like a curse, behind Cloud’s back. Cloud stared at the man for a moment. It had been a trap. That was why they hadn’t encountered anyone.

 The president rolled his eyes from side to side, examining them.

 “Hmm, so you all must be that… what was it?”

 “AVALANCHE! And don’t ya forget it!” Barret growled dangerously. The president waved a dismissive hand, the fat jewels of his rings reflecting off the Mako lights. He turned to Cloud, ignoring Barret. His beady eyes narrowed as he scanned him.

 “You… you’re the one who quit SOLDIER and joined AVALANCHE. I knew you’ve been exposed to Mako, from the look in your eyes…” He gestured at the general direction of Cloud’s eyes. A condescending scoff followed. “The media’s going _wild_ … The press… _A child of Shinra turning against his father!_ I’ll have none of that. Tell me, traitor, what’s your name?”

 “Cloud Strife.” Cloud answered, because there was no reason not to. The president cocked his head, as if in deep thought.

 “I’m thinking…”

 “Don’t hurt yourself.” Barret snarled. The president ignored that too. He shook his head slowly.

 “No, doesn’t ring a bell. But I can hardly be expected to remember everyone’s name in my empire, can I? Unless you become another Sephiroth.” He laughed at his own joke.

 Cloud took a step back, suddenly feeling too dizzy to stand up straight. He felt frustration, anger – at how _inept_ he is. What the hell was wrong with him? These stupid flashbacks, these stupid _fears_ , the headaches, hearing voices, hallucinating – now, it seemed, it couldn’t even hear Sephiroth’s name without having a panic attack. _Sephiroth_. He felt sick. The world revolved around him, placing cold hands on his throat. He took another step back.

 Barret ran past Cloud to grab the president, but had to stop when the president quickly stepped behind the giant robot and it started to whirr louder. Its huge metal clamps snapped shut with a deathly _crack_.

 “If you will excuse me,” the president said, smirking as he already began walking back the way he came. Cloud saw there was a helicopter waiting. “I have a dinner I must attend. I just wanted to see your faces one last time.”

 “Dinner? Don’t gimme that! I ain’t even started with you yet!” Barret shouted, but the helicopter had already floated into the air. As if in a daze, Cloud stared up at it, not knowing what to think.

 “Barret…” Tifa said, pulling his sleeve. Barret followed her gaze. The robot the President Shinra had left was whirring ominously.

 “What the,” Barret said, and Cloud suddenly came to his senses.

 “Get down!” He yelled as he threw his body down. Gunshots shook the stale air. He squinted open his eyes. The robot was slashing the air, guns firing from its chest. Its head, so to speak, started rotating to find its targets. It wouldn’t be long until it lowered its gaze and locked down again. There would be nothing to do then.

 Cloud grabbed his sword and shot forward. As he jumped, the robot locked upon him and the guns began to adjust themselves, pointing at him, but he was a half second faster. His sword smashed its head and slashed down right through half of its body, breaking through the core. He used the momentum to jump to the other side of the robot as it exploded behind him. One moment, he was stumbling and rolling on the bridge. The next, he heard the explosion and it paralyzed him for a second. A second too late. He saw the horizon rise up in front of his eyes. The floor he was standing on was falling. He was falling –

 He clutched the broken edge of the bridge at the last moment. There wasn’t enough of it, though. He breathed in and out, his heart feeling like it was still falling without him. Small pieces of burned metal rolled past and over him. Some of them left small red marks and scratches on his arm.

 “Cloud!” Tifa was behind him, he could hear her voice. Hopefully standing on the other side of the gaping hole left by the explosion.

 “Tifa! You okay?” Cloud called. He wished he could turn around and check. His arm was shaking.

 “Yeah, we’re okay… Hang on, Cloud! Barret, can’t you do something?”

 “Not a damn thing.” Barret grumbled.

 Blood was drying out of his hand. Cloud watched it turn ghostly white. He was going to fall.

 “Hey, you gonna be awright?” Barret called behind him. There was a forced casualness behind his voice. Cloud decided to play along. His hand was slipping, muscles straining and feeling like they were going to tear apart.

 “Yeah,” he said, willing his voice to sound nonchalant. “You worry about yourselves. I’ll just – you take care of Tifa.”

 “Yeah, of course, alright.” A short pause, then, “…sorry ‘bout all this.”

 Cloud would have laughed if he could. “I’ll see you later.”

 But there was no later. He couldn’t hold on any longer. He stared down at his other arm, hanging limply by his side.

 “Alright, then, later.” Barret’s voice sounded distant, like everything else around him.

 Cloud closed his eyes, and let go. Gravity took over him as he fell. It felt slow, not like the last time; he would have looked for that face again, if his eyes didn’t hurt too much to open. He thought he heard Tifa call his name, but couldn’t be sure. He was falling.

 Sometime in between painful breaths, he felt himself falling unconscious.

 He briefly wondered if he would ever wake up.

 Then, black.


	5. Aerith

… You all right?

Can you hear me?

_It_ _’_ _s a strange voice._ _Rings clear, in the blackness that surrounds him_ _. Unfamiliar and familiar at the same time. Cloud feels like he knows it well, but can’t say why he does or whose it is._

Can you hear me?

_“Yeah.” Cloud mutters, trying to remember, but it_ _’_ _s like reaching through a net of greens and fog. Wh_ _ose voice is it_ _? He thinks he sees a face pass briefly, but can’t hold it down._

Back then, you could get by with just skinned knees…

_The voice sounds light, even amused. Cloud finds himself frowning._

_“What do you mean back then? What about now?”_

 Can you get up?

_The voice asks, not answering him at all. Cloud tries shifting his body, and instead feels like a thousand rocks are weighing him down. He thinks he hears someone call him, beside the strange voice in the black. He finally manages to stir his fingers._

Good. Take it slow _,_ _t_ _he voice soothes._

_“Hey… who are you?”_

-

 “Hello? Hello?”

 Cloud’s eyes flew open. He was staring at a white sky; there shouldn’t be a sky here.

 “Hello? Can you hear me?”

 Cloud felt like he’d just been dreaming. There was someone… but he couldn’t remember who it was. They’d been talking about something…

 “Are you alright?” Something suddenly cast a shadow over him. Cloud found himself looking up at a face. It was the flower girl; Cloud sat up slowly, wondering at the coincidence. Was he still dreaming? His head danced uncertainly.

 He looked around and found himself in an old, run-down church. A tall door was left ajar. Black pews, some broken, were sprawled here and there. There was a wooden statue, half-broken, against the back wall. Feeble light crept across and fell upon the face of the statue. The high windows that ran down the length of the walls on either sides were decorated with stained glass. For the most part, the lights didn’t reach and the glasses remained dull red and green.

 But sunlight had managed to reach a tiny part of the window. One ray of sunshine crept through, passed the colored glass and exploded into flares or red and blue and green. Cloud stared at it for a moment. Where was this place?

 As if reading his mind, a voice answered his thought, making him jump a little.

 “This is a church in the Sector 5 slums.”

 Cloud turned back to look at the flower girl, who was smiling now.

 “Are you okay? You suddenly fell from above. You really gave me a scare.”

 “I… came crashing down?” Cloud asked, then remembered; the reactor, letting go. The flower girl squatted down in front of him.

 “Yeah. The roof and the flower bed must’ve broken your fall. You’re lucky.”

 “Flower bed?” Then Cloud realized what he was sitting on. A bed of flowers, yellow and white sprouting out from the broken part of the church floor. The flowers were packed densely together, completely covering the soil. He scrambled up, feeling a little flushed. Maybe it was the scent. “Is this yours? Sorry about that.”

 “That’s alright. The flowers here are quite resilient – maybe because it’s a sacred place,” she said.Cloud didn’t think he believed in God, but her conviction was alluring. “They say you can’t grow flowers in Midgar, but for some reason… the flowers have no trouble blooming here.”

 Cloud didn’t know how to answer her smile, so he just nodded. It really must be a sacred place, he thought distantly.

 “So,” shemet Cloud’s eyes. “Don’t you remember me?”

 “Yeah, of course,” he swallowed. “You were selling these – flowers.”

 “Right. Thanks for buying my flower,” she laughed. “Business is slow these days. Hey, is that Materia?” She was pointing at the sword by Cloud’s side.

 He felt a little dizzy. He thought it must be from the fall. She had a quick smile, a set of deep green eyes.

 “Yeah,” he said.

 “I only ask because I have one too.” She took out a white Materia from her jacket pocket, and held it up in front of Cloud. Milky white, like a pearl; he didn’t recognize it. “Mine is special though, It’s good for absolutely nothing.”

 “Good for nothing?” He frowned. “Are you sure – you know how to use it?” He hoped he didn’t sound too condescending.

 “Yeah, I do. It just doesn’t do anything. I feel safe just having it with me, though. It was my mother’s.”

 When she fell into a short silence, eyes remembering, Cloud got a little nervous. He felt like he should be saying something important, keeping a promise, as much as it didn’t make any sense; he’d just met the girl. He was probably just being stupid (no surprise there). He cleared his throat.

 “What’s your name?”

 She looked at Cloud, a little surprised. “Now that you mention it,” she said, “we don’t even know each others’ names, huh? I’m Aerith Gainsborough. Nice to meet you.” She held out her hand.

 “Cloud Strife,” he said, taking her hand. It felt like petals, light and quick.

 “So, Cloud. What do you do?”

 “I, uh,” Cloud wondered what he could say, other than _a terrorist._ “I do a little bit of everything.”

 “Oh? A jack of all trades?” Aerith laughed.

 “Yeah,” Cloud frowned. “What’s – what’s so funny? Why are you laughing?” He thought maybe he was annoyed, but was too dizzy to notice.

 “Sorry, I just –” She started to explain, but then her smile had suddenly frozen. Cloud looked back.

 There was a man by the door. Shadows hid him, but Cloud could just make out the slouchy silhouette, the disheveled hair. He narrowed his eyes. Stifled footsteps – outside. More of them. Maybe three?

 “Say, Cloud,” Aerith said.

 “Yeah?” Cloud kept his eyes on the shadow-man, counting the steps between them.

 “Do you do bodyguards too?”

 Cloud looked at her. “Yeah.”

 “Then get me out of here. Take me home,” Aerith said. It should have been strange that there wasn’t a trace of fear in her eyes – only some sort of weariness, maybe regret – but somehow it didn’t fit Aerith to be scared.

 “It –” He got a little lost in her eyes, which was sentimental and stupid, but then – he _had_ fallen from the sky. “It’ll cost you.”

 Aerith was looking at him, amused, curious, and Cloud wanted to hit himself.

 “Okay,” she considered. Then, just as Cloud was about to say _forget it_ , she said, “I got it. How about one date?”

 Cloud looked at her for a second, maybe two (maybe a minute, in his head); nodded, without really knowing what he was agreeing to, and turned back to the intruder. He thought he heard Aerith laugh softly behind him.

 The man had finally walked into the light. He had an uncontrollably bright red hair, held down by a pair of goggles pushed up to the top of his head. His eyes were explosions of green, hardly blinking. He was also slouching like he couldn’t be bothered to hold himself up properly. He looked up and down Cloud lazily.

 “Hey, I don’t know you, but,” Cloud started, but before he could finish the thought – a flash of white, in a blink.

-

 I know you _, the voice says._

_“Wait. Who are you?”_

_There is no answer._

-

 Cloud blinked; the echo of the flash resonated white in his head, but didn’t come back.

 “What?” The redhead was cocking his head like a cat, grinning crookedly. Cloud looked at him again, and suddenly found that in fact – he _did_ know the man. It was the well memory all over again; and Tifa’s dead father, Nibelheim reactor.

 “Wait, I _do_ know you,” Cloud said. Except he couldn’t actually _remember._ It was just a mild nagging at his mind.

 There was a barking laugh. The men standing outside had stepped in, forming a semi-circle behind the redhead. One of them was snickering now.

 “Hey, this one’s a little weird.”

 “Reno, want him taken out?” The other one called.

 Reno was looking thoughtful, examining Cloud with an indefinable superiority. He drew out his words slowly, a snake sliding in grass.

 “I, haven’t, decided, yet.”

 Cloud let them talk, searching for an escape with his eyes. The only door was blocked by three infantrymen and a Turk. With Aerith, breaking down the wall wouldn’t be too wise…

 His eyes fell on the statue against the back wall. There was a large crack behind it, from which a strip of light fell on the face of the statue.

 Just as Reno was opening his mouth to say something, Cloud grabbed Aerith’s hand and started running. He counted three seconds of startled silence (which surprised him, because, well, a _Turk_ ), then there were shouts, footsteps, as the infantrymen started stomping after them. Cloud swung his sword, flung some broken pews back to block the way. He heard gunshots, but the angle was off – they didn’t want to kill Aerith, he realized. He tugged her faster; ripped open wooden wall panels and let her run through first, jumped over, turned around, and rolled a large barrel in front of the crack to block the pursuers.

 They were out in the backyard of the church. A thin strip of sunlight had crept through the slightly mismatched edges of Sector five and six plates. The dark web of the slums started not far from where they stood; they would make it if they started running now, and be lost to the complicated twists and turns of the slums. Cloud started towards it, but Aerith grabbed his arm.

 “This way,” she said. “We’ll go where they won’t think to look.”

 It was Aerith who grabbed his hand this time. His enhanced senses picked up the pulse through her palm, a little fast, a little out of breath.

-

 Aerith led them to the roof of the church. They listened as the infantrymen finally broke through the barred panels and cursed out loud. “Reno! Looks like they’ve disappeared into the slums!” One of them called. “We’re following, but don’t hold your breath.”

 Indecipherable muttering. The three of them started towards the slums.

 Cloud realized that Reno had never joined the chase in the first place. They watched him waddle out of the church, sweep a lazy glance back; once, he looked up to where they were hiding, but his gaze didn’t linger.

 “Don’t bother, guys,” he said to the air. “Long gone.” He chuckled as he walked away.

 When Reno and his low whistle finally disappeared, Aerith sighed in relief and leaned back against the chimney.

 “What a dramatic escape.”

 Cloud nodded, carefully leaning back next to Aerith. There was a patch of clear blue sky in between the plates; incongruous, like someone had cut and pasted a piece of blue cloth.

 “They’re looking for me again,” Aerith said. Cloud looked at her.

 “You mean – it’s not the first time they’ve been after you?”

 “No.”

 “That guy – Reno – he’s a Turk,” Cloud said. When Aerith didn’t say anything, he explained; “The Turks are an organization within Shinra. They scout for possible candidates for SOLDIER…”

 “Oh, really?” Aerith sounded amused. “Are they always this violent?”

 “They’re also involved in a lot of – dirty stuff on the side. You know.”

 “I know. They look it,” she said.

 “But why are they after you? There must be a reason.” It unsettled him that the Turks were after Aerith; they were bad news. SOLDIERs and Turks very rarely got along, too. Different line of work – their condescension for each other was mutual and not so secret.

 “No, not really.” Aerith didn’t hesitate. “Hey, maybe they think I have what it takes to be a SOLDIER.”

 Cloud searched her face, but couldn’t find any signs of a lie. Not that he was that good at reading people, but – he wanted to believe her. “Maybe you do. Wanna join?”

 Aerith laughed. “I don’t think so. But if I do, I’ll let you know.”

 And Cloud decided that it didn’t really matter one way or another; the Turks had their reason, one that Cloud didn’t really care about.

 “Hey, Cloud?” Aerith said, after a while.

 “Yeah?”

 “Were you – ever in SOLDIER?”

 “I used to be. How’d you guess?”

 “Your eyes.”

 Cloud turned to look at her. There was a greenish glow in his eyes, the sign of the Mako running through his veins. He hadn’t expected Aerith to notice, though, or know about the Mako-eyes.

 “How do you know about that?” He asked.

 Aerith just smiled. “I remembered.”

 It was hardly an answer, but there was something sad about her smile that Cloud let it go. Memories were best left alone; he’d know, of course.

-

 Sector Five wasn’t any different from the other slum districts. Cloud followed Aerith through a street with a couple of shops selling slightly broken things, dog yelping and bouncing about, boys tossing a ball between themselves.

 “Mornin’, flower lady. That your boyfriend?” Someone called. Aerith looked back, grinned at a balding man sitting behind a vendor.

 “No, just my bodyguard.”

 The man laughed. Cloud was listening to his barking laugh when he realized that there _was_ something different about Sector five, after all. It was – less dead; real people looking at them with living eyes, a joke to crack. It was more lively.

 Or maybe it was just Aerith.

 “Just a little more, and then it’s my house,” Aerith was saying, when another voice interrupted.

 “Hey, Aerith!” A man with a messy brown hair was waving at them. Aerith walked over to him. “No flowers today, eh? Hey there, Mister,” he nodded at Cloud.

 “Ben, this is Cloud. He’s my bodyguard,” Aerith said. Cloud coughed a little, feeling somewhat self-conscious.

 “Is that right?” Ben laughed. Then he turned more serious; “well… listen, Aerith. There’s this guy in there… think he need help.” He jerked his head toward an old sewer pipe. It was big enough for a person to fit through.

 “Okay, Ben. I’ll look into him. See what I can do.”

 “Thanks, Aerith. It’s just that I have to meet someone, so…”

 This wouldn’t have happened in Sector seven or eight, Cloud thought. Aerith walked over to the pipe, and Cloud followed.

 The smell of sewer had diluted from long disuse. Cloud stepped in after Aerith, willing himself not to look back (the pipe wasn’t going to close itself, for God’s sake); he hoped Aerith couldn’t hear that his heartbeats had gotten a fraction faster.

 And then he smelled Mako. Only a faint trace; but the whole world flashed white for a millisecond, like it had done in the church – he thought he saw something – a tight space, closed, no escape, nothing but green all around.

 “Here we are.”

 Somehow, Aerith’s voice broke through. Cloud realized that he’d been breathing a little too fast, ragged in the edges. Aerith didn’t seem to have noticed. She was looking down at a figure laying on a torn blanket. Cloud took a measured breath, looked down,

-

 No, _the voice whispered._

-

 And realized that the faint stench of Mako was coming from the man. He was groaning, almost too low to hear.

 “He’s really sick… Cloud, can you help him?”

 Cloud had to clear his throat, control his breathing. He was trying not to smell too much. “Well, I’m no doctor.” His voice came out stiff anyway.

 “No, I guess not.” Aerith bent down next to him. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

 “Isn’t – isn’t there a doctor around here?” Cloud asked, wishing they could get out of here.

 Aerith laughed. “There’s no doctor in the slums.”

 The man stirred. Sweat had broken out on the nape of his neck. A sound, deep and sickening to the bone, gurgled out; he stirred, made to get up, then fell back down. Aerith stepped back hesitantly. His arm stretched out, trembling, trying to reach something that they couldn’t see.

Then it dropped and then he was dead, with his eyes wide open and dead green.

Cloud stared at the tattoo right in the center of the man’s forehead; a faded black number _two_. Something was beating inside his chest, something ugly, bloody.

“What – what’s that?” Aerith sounded a little scared.

“I don’t know,” he managed to say. He needed to get out of here. Without waiting for Aerith, he turned back and walked out of the pipe.

-

 “I’m home, Mom.”

 Aerith’s house was definitely different from the others in the slums. There were dotted light brown curtains over the windows, and there were flowers. Lots of flowers, blooming near the windows and the door; in pots, vases. All yellow and white. Aerith must have brought the ones from the church.

 “Aerith? You’re early,” a voice answered from inside. Aerith’s mother followed; she had that same shade of soft brown hair. She raised her eyebrows when she saw Cloud standing in the doorway.

 “Mom, this is Cloud. My bodyguard.”

 She must really like saying that, Cloud thought.

 “A bodyguard?” Aerith’s mother frowned. “You mean you were followed again? Are you alright? You’re not hurt, are you?”

 “I’m fine. I had Cloud with me.”

 Aerith’s mother then turned to him; her eyes were dark brown, instead of Aerith’s forest green. But the smiles looked pretty similar.

 “Thank you, Cloud.”

 “Uh, no problem.”

 “I’ll go get some tea – would you stay for a while, Cloud?”

 “Actually –” Cloud wanted to refuse, but she was walking back into the kitchen.

 “That was really a rhetorical question,” Aerith explained, grinning widely. “Make yourself at home.”

 “Listen, Aerith, I have to go to Sector seven. The sooner the better.”

 He was thinking of Tifa and Barret and AVALANCHE. As sweet as it was, Cloud couldn’t help but feel like this whole deal with Aerith had been a dream; he’d left another life behind. The one with flashy bombs, a (shoddy) terrorist group, Nibel Dews and a secret meeting room. They probably thought he was dead.

 “Oh? What’s in Sector seven?” Aerith asked, curious. “I thought you lived upper plate, or something.”

 “No, I – Sector seven has Seventh Heaven. It’s a bar, and… a friend of mine runs it.”

 “Well,” Aerith considered this. “Okay. I’ll show you the way.”

 Cloud stared. “You gotta be kidding.”

 Aerith was smiling that smile again.

 “You – why do you want to put yourself in danger again?” He asked, hoping she was joking, but it didn’t look like it. Again, that lack of fear; it should have unsettled him, not –

 “I’m used to it.”

 “I don’t know…”

 “Mom!” Aerith called, not listening to Cloud. “I’m taking Cloud to Sector seven! I’ll be back in a flash.”

 “Hey, wait a second,” Cloud started to protest, but she gave him the most dazzling grin he’d ever seen, a glint of mischief in those eyes. Cloud couldn’t help but feel that all this was a little unfair on him, and realized that he’d lost his words in the middle of that smile.

 “But Aerith…” Aerith’s mother ran out, saw her daughter’s expression. “Oh, I give up.”

 Cloud sympathized with Mrs. Gainsborough.

 “Fine – but don’t blame me.” Cloud muttered under his breath. Aerith pretended not to have heard him.


	6. Don Corneo

 “The gate to Sector 7 is there.” Aerith pointed at a familiar metal gate behind them. The day was getting darker, what little sunlight they got under the plates getting disappearing fast. Cloud looked back at the way they’d come; maybe he shouldn’t have let her come. Except that it wasn’t much of his choice from the beginning.

 “Thanks. I guess this is goodbye. You gonna be all right going home?” He asked. Aerith rolled her eyes, a soft grin spreading on her face like color on water.

 “Oh, god no. Whatever will I do?”

 Cloud hesitated, not sure of what to say. Aerith laughed; something about his face was apparently very funny. “No, I’ll be fine. Thanks, Cloud,” she finally said.

Cloud nodded. He was going to wait for her to leave; but she didn’t, and he thought about asking her if she was going to, but didn’t. They weren’t exactly looking at each other but they weren’t looking at anything else, either. The moment stretched over the battered wooden boards and fallen, broken bricks in front of the metal gate.

 “Hey, listen – do you mind…” Aerith cleared her throat. “Do you want to sit with me for a while? You know, just to – talk.”

 “Sit?” Cloud asked, feeling a little dumb. “Talk?”

 “Yeah. There’s a playground at the back.” She’d lost the hesitation. She’d read his answer already; Aerith smiled, and tugged his hand. Cloud walked with her.

 The playground was old; green mold had grown out of the cracks between bricks. The paint had peeled, rusted red, and metal chains were barely holding up a swing set. The only thing still intact was the seesaw.

 “Looks dead.” He’d meant to say _old_. Aerith nodded, sitting at the bottom of the slide. Cloud sat across from her, on the seesaw; the rotting metal squeaking sound. Cloud worried it might break under his weight.

 “It is now, but four years ago… I haven’t been here in a while.”

 He watched her watching her memory. _Memories were best left alone_ , he thought again.

 “Can I ask you something?” She said, breaking out of her thoughts with a suddenness that made him startle a little.

 “Go ahead.”

 “What rank were you?”

 “Rank?”

 “You know, in SOLDIER.”

 “Oh. I was –”

-

 No.

  _It says this a lot, this mysterious voice, with the same kind of desperation, the same persistence. He doesn’t bother asking who it is. It wouldn’t answer, anyway._

-

 “ – First class.”

 Cloud finished, feeling a little strange. Why the hesitation? It wasn’t like it was a terribly difficult thing to recall; not the kind of memories that he’d had to leave alone (and which were those?).

 “Hm. Just the same as him.”

 “The same – as who?”

 “Oh,” Aerith looked at him, a little mischievousness in her eyes. “My first boyfriend.”

 “Huh.”

 He didn’t know what to say. He watched her trace the same pattern with her finger over and over again, making a small triangle on the dust.

 “I liked him for – oh, quite a while,” she said. She didn’t seem bothered by Cloud’s lack of response. It occurred to him that this playground must hold (four years ago, she’d said) some kind of meaning for her – him – the two of them. Sacred ground.

 “So – what’s his name? I mean,” Cloud hesitated. “Because I probably knew him. There aren’t many first class SOLDIERS.”

 “It doesn’t really matter,” Aerith answered, somewhat distracted.

 Cloud was about to say something (he’d never remember what, later) when he heard the Sector Seven gate open. He looked up in reflex, and froze when he saw who walked out. The playground was some distance away from the gate, enough to blur faces, but he’d have recognized her anyway. Anywhere.

 “Tifa?” Cloud stood up. Aerith turned her head to look.

 Tifa looked oddly out of place. Stranger still was the clothes she was wearing – not the black ones he’d gotten accustomed to seeing, but a light blue dress; he knew that color. The night, the party, the promises.

 Tifa seemed to glance at him, maybe hearing his call, but then turned away; she hadn’t seen him. Or maybe she had, and thought him a ghost or a mirage. She hurried her way to Sector Six gate, was gone before he could even start to follow.

 “Tifa,” Aerith mused. “Is that your friend who, uh, runs the bar?”

 Cloud nodded, distracted. Something about Tifa was so – off. And why was she going to Sector Six – in that dress? Another mission for the AVALANCHE?

 “Cloud,” Aerith sounded cautious. She gestured to the gate to Sector Six. “You know what’s behind that gate, don’t you?”

 “…Yeah. The Wall Market.”

 “Would she have a reason to be there?”

 “Maybe, but – nothing good.” Cloud gritted his teeth. If it _did_ turn out to be an AVALANCHE mission, he would have to have a word with Barret when he got back.

 “Well then, aren’t you gonna follow her?”

 When Cloud looked back at Aerith, he caught her back; she was already running towards the gate.

 “Wait!” Cloud shouted after her, already knowing it’d be futile. “I’ll go alone! You go on home!”

 Aerith only laughed. Cloud sighed, and followed her into Sector Six.

-

The Wall Market might have been a cheery place if there’d been sunlight on the numerous stalls and shops and streets. But Sector Six was the darkest sector, nestled in between Five and Seven with no breathing room. Pairs of bloodshot eyes followed Cloud and Aerith as they made their ways through the streets crowded with everything; people, things, shops, air, stench, empty bottles. Aerith didn’t falter, but Cloud stepped up closer to her just in case.

 They arrived at a crossroad. There was a dress shop with a rack of clothes dangling outside, a huge bar – laughter and smell of alcohol spilling out onto the dimly lit street.

 No sign of Tifa.

 Aerith looked at him, once, before walking into the Inn. Cloud didn’t know what she was looking for; even as he dragged himself into the building, he was hoping that it’d be a dead end. Tifa could have gone anywhere. Anywhere but here.

 “Excuse me,” he cleared his throat. The receptionist had a sickly sweet smile; some of his teeth were missing.

 “May I help you, sir?”

 “Is there – a girl named Tifa Lockhart?” _Please, no_. He could feel Aerith watching him, concerned.

 “Hey,” the man laughed. “You’re here pretty fast. Tifa’s our newest girl. But unfortunately, she’s in the middle of a – interview, right now.” He now grinned, with disturbing effects. “It’s – ah, customary, for all the new girls to be taken to Don Corneo’s mansion.”

 “Oh,” Cloud managed. Tifa and Barret better have a damn good explanation. “Looks like I gotta go there, then,” he muttered.

 “Oh, I’m sorry. Only his servants and girls can enter the mansion. Maybe you could,” his gaze wandered over to Aerith, who’d been standing a few steps behind. “Ask your lady friend here to check it out for you.”

 As if he’d make this harder on himself. Cloud pushed Aerith’s shoulders out of the place as quickly as possible.

-

 “Hey, I’ll go take a look. I’ll tell Tifa about you,” Aerith said. Cloud hadn’t expected any less, but he couldn’t let her walk into the mansion. He grabbed her arm quickly before she could go running off again.

 “No. You can’t.”

 Aerith looked up at him with half-laughing eyes. “Why not?”

 “You know why not,” he muttered.

 “But you can’t just leave Tifa in there.”

 “I know.”

 “What’re you gonna do? Bust in with guns – sword – blazing?”

 Cloud frowned. “There’re too many security guards… but I can’t let you go in alone, either.”

 Aerith released herself from Cloud’s arm, crossing her own over her chest. Her eyes still had that twinkle, incongruous in the darkest slums in the city. “Well, you know there is a really easy solution to all this.”

 “What’s that?” Cloud asked, looked at her, and suddenly (watching her face distorted with badly suppressed laughter) he _knew._ “Oh, no.”

 “It’s the only way,” she kept her voice even. “You _are_ worried about Tifa, right?”

 “But…”

 “It’ll be all right, Cloud.” She said, sweetly, and dragged his hand across the street to a dress shop.

-

 Cloud knew – logically – _why_ he’d gotten into the violet dress and a stuffy wig (he’d had to distance himself first, like he did with small spaces and smell of Mako), but he still couldn’t quite get _how_ he’d done it. This was probably the stupidest thing he’s done in a line of really stupid things. Except Aerith was laughing a lot all through the _makeover_ (Cloud tried not to dwell too much on how silly it sounded), and maybe that was how.

 “I can’t believe you’d really do this for a friend!” The woman overseeing this whole – affair – had said, when she heard the story; Aerith’s embellished version of it, anyway. “Must be a really important friend, huh?”

 “Mm,” Cloud managed. It must have been Barret’s idea. No one else could have thought of something so spectacularly stupid. “Maybe – I think – it was a really bad idea.” He said for the hundredth time. The Madame (she insisted Cloud call her that) and her assistants had another fit of giggles.

 “No, no. You look _ab-so-lute_ -ly gorgeous. Isn’t that right, girls? Most fun I’ve had in years!”

 “Yeah, but –” This was _not_ about Madame’s enjoyment. “Ouch,” he winced as one of the girls stuck another pin into his scalp. “Hey, that’s my head.”

 “Sorry, but don’t move,” she said.

 “We won’t need too much makeup,” Madame announced. “Maybe a little mascara and… something for the lips?”

 “You’re not getting that – thing – near my eyes,” Cloud said. “Or my lips.”

 “I don’t think you need makeup at all,” Aerith said, suddenly popping her head in front of Cloud and examining him. He saw that she’d changed too (it’d taken all of five minutes), into a simple red dress; she’d unbraided her hair, wearing it in a long, rippling ponytail.

 “Maybe you’re right,” Madame relented, chuckling. Cloud silently thanked Aerith, who only smiled. “Alright, you’re done! See for yourself.”

 Cloud stood up carefully. The dress was uncomfortable, seeming to wrap around his legs and suffocating them somehow. He was still wearing his normal clothes underneath; he was going to throw the damn dress off the first chance he got. He was a little afraid to look in the mirror, but forced himself to raise his eyes. The Madame and the girls had decided on a _shawl_ (he hadn’t needed to know what they were called); a thick grey one big enough to cover all of his upper body and arms. A pair of white gloves to cover his calloused hands. He guessed they were alright; he could imagine it was a blanket or something like that. It _was_ early December, anyway.

 He finally looked at his face. Stared, muted in horror.

 “This…” Cloud faltered, blinking.

 “Yes, Cloud? What do you think?” Aerith was doing a good job keeping a straight face; all the other girls had fallen into an uncontrollable laughing fit. Something choked him. _This must be a nightmare_ , he thought. _Please._

 “I’m never going out like this,” he said.

 “What? You look so – nice,” Aerith said, finally cracking.

 “But you – but I – you’re laughing so much!” He protested, obstinately keeping his eyes _off_ the damn mirror. The wig was too heavy on his shoulders.

 “It’s just – your expression –” Aerith said, in between laughter. “No, but really, you look like a pretty girl, Cloud – Cloudia. Besides, don’t you have to go save Tifa?”

 He couldn’t argue with that. But. “ _Cloudia_?” Aerith only laughed harder. “Alright, fine, but soon as we find her, I’m outta this dress.”

 “Oh, forget about the money, dear,” Madame said when they tried to pay her, wiping a tear of mirth from her eyes. “I had too much fun for that.”

 He supposed it was one consolation out of all this mess.

-

  _“You again? Who are…”He feels tired, of even asking the question._

What are you doing?

  _“I don’t know,” Cloud clutches his head, confused. He is standing in a complete blackness that seems to be gnawing on every cell in his body, dying them coal black and finally dissolving them. He wants to get out, but he also wants to know who the voice belongs to. He almost remembers… almost. The voice twists in the darkness, surrounding him, coming at him from all directions._

 You can’t change anything by just sitting back and looking at it.

  _“What are you saying?” Cloud looks around, or at least thinks he’s looking around. He can’t feel his body; all that remains of himself is a mere strand of what might be called a consciousness; drifting… and fragile. So fragile._

It’s started moving.

  _“What has?”_

Wake up!

-

 “Cloud? Cloud! Are you okay?”

 Cloud opened his eyes to Aerith’s voice Someone was shaking him by the shoulder. He felt so dizzy; took a wobbly step forward, almost fell down. Aerith stopped him from falling. The hands turned out to be hers, firm, steadying.

 “You looked so pale. What’s wrong?”

 “Nothing. Just got dizzy,” he muttered. “Must be the wig.”

 Aerith looked dubious, but let him go. The dim light from the hanging lamp was suddenly too bright for his eyes. Sharp, poking his head like needles. Cloud had a vague memory of some darkness. He didn’t like these blackouts (if that was what they were); it was dangerous that he couldn’t remember parts of his life. Minutes, maybe hours. He felt, somehow, that there had been a conversation going on somewhere, in a parallel – darkness.

 “Come on, we gotta find Tifa,” Cloud said, and walked out of the shop. He thought he remembered someone’s voice say, You can’t change anything.

-

 “We heard that – Don Corneo was looking for girls to work for him?”

 Aerith said it like he was looking for someone to organize his calendar or a sock drawer. Cloud composed his face to remain expressionless. Don Corneo’s servant, a fat man in a horrible red suit, took one look at them, broke into a snarling grin.

 “Oh, yes, ladies. Come in, come in! Two ladies coming through!”

  _The wig must have worked_ , Cloud thought dully. He tried to slow his pace, mimicking Aerith’s walk.

 Another red-suited man, looking like a butler with his bowtie, greeted them at the far end of the hall. “Welcome, ladies,” he said, with the similar filthy smile. “I’ll go and let the Don know you’re here. Wait and don’t go wandering around.”

 They were shown into a pink room (there was really no other word to describe it). Cloud waited for the two sets of footsteps echoing away, then turned to Aerith.

 “Now’s our chance. Let’s find Tifa.”

 Aerith nodded. The door opened without much noise; they proceeded carefully into the corridor, checking each room. Most of them were empty and similarly pink (all the marble, chandelier, cushions and perfume were beginning to suffocate him); and then they finally found a waiting room of some sort, not too far into the carpeted corridor. Cloud slipped in quickly, recognizing Tifa’s back. He was about to walk right up to her, but at the last minute remembered – with a sickening clarity – the face looking back at him in the mirror. He stopped. Aerith swallowed something like laughter and walked past him. She tapped Tifa gently on the shoulder.

 “Is it time… huh?” Tifa looked at Aerith, a little confused. Her eyes flickered to Cloud for a second, but didn’t linger. Cloud realized with astonishment (and horror) that she didn’t recognize him. Not that he blamed her; who’d have thought.

 “Hi, Tifa,” Aerith held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, finally. I’m Aerith. Cloud’s told me a lot about you.”

 That was a lie, Cloud thought, but kept his mouth shut. Tifa took her hand a little uncertainly.

 “Oh, were you the one with Cloud in the park?” So she _had_ seen him. Tifa’s face lit up with relief. “Thank God. I thought I was seeing things. So he’s okay? Alive and everything?”

 “Yes, he’s okay,” Aerith said. “And – don’t worry. We just met by accident. I was helping him find his way to Sector Seven. There’s nothing, really, to worry about…”

 “What do you mean ‘don’t worry?’” Tifa said, sounding a little strange. “Cloud and I are childhood friends. Nothing more.”

 Cloud shifted on his feet, suddenly feeling awkward for some reason.

 Aerith laughed. “Poor Cloud. Having to stand here and listen to both of us call him nothing.”

 “Huh?” Tifa frowned, looking around the room; and then she spotted Cloud. “Cloud?” Her mouth dropped open. A moment of awkward silence passed; Tifa was too shocked, and Cloud too embarrassed, to say anything. Aerith was laughing silently.

 “I had no choice,” Cloud said weakly. “Believe me.”

 “But – why – how – no, forget that,” she drew a calming breath, composing herself. “What happened? After the fall, I mean. Are you hurt?”

 “No, I’m alright,” Cloud said. “So – uh – why are you here?”

 “It’s – I have an explanation.”

 “You better,” Cloud said, gesturing at himself. “I’ve never felt so stupid in my life.”

 Tifa finally laughed, then. “Were you worried about me?”

 “Why else would I be – like this? So go on, explain.”

 “Okay, but…” Tifa’s eyes flickered to where Aerith stood. Aerith had been looking at them both with a fascination. Catching the drift, she held up her hand and walked away to the other side of the room.

 “It’s okay, I won’t listen,” she said.

 “Sorry, Aerith,” Tifa called after her. Turning to Cloud, her smile quickly disappeared, voice dropping lower. “I’m glad you’re okay. I thought… I thought you were dead.”

 “I know,” Cloud tried a smile. “I thought I was dead, too.”

 A faint smile appeared and disappeared on Tifa’s face. Then she went on.

 “When we got back from the Number Five Reactor, there was this suspicious-looking little man lurking around the bar. So Barret jumped – I mean, investigated him, for information.”

 “And that’s when the Don’s name popped up,” Cloud guessed, and Tifa nodded.

 “Right. Don Corneo. The man didn’t say much, though. He was all rambling – Barret has that effect on people. Barret told me to leave the leech alone, but something’s been bothering me.”

 “I see,” Cloud nodded slowly. “So – you wanted to get the story straight from Corneo’s mouth.”

 “Exactly. Corneo’s going to choose soon, you know, between the girls. There were supposed to be three –” She stopped herself, realizing.

 “I guess now there are,” Cloud said.

 “She’s a civilian,” Tifa dropped her voice further down.

 “I know. But you try talking her out of things,” Cloud said, a little desperate. “I guess we have no choice now.”

 Tifa looked a little worried, but nodded.

-

 Don Corneo’s eyes were gleaming. Cloud wondered (not for the first time) what he was doing here in a dress and wig, being examined by a fat little man with a stuffy breath. His beady eyes rolled between Tifa and Aerith, then finally came to Cloud. Cloud looked away, almost out of reflex.

 “Playin’ hard-to-get?” Corneo chuckled. It raised goosebumps on Cloud’s arms. “Well, okay, I can roll with that. Leave us be.”

 Corneo waved the guards away. Cloud gave a small nod to Tifa. They waited a minute, just to be sure (all the while the Don was rambling about hard choices and how delighted they make him); when the coast was clear, he ran at the unsuspecting Don.

 “Wha–”

 He covered the Don’s mouth with his palm, while Tifa ran to the door to lock it. Dragging the struggling man to his chair, Cloud felt his wig and shawl falling off; the air felt cool on his skin.

 “What the hell…”

 “Be quiet, or else…” Tifa held up a finger in front of Corneo’s face.

 “Y-yeah? What’re you gonna do? Kill me? I’m Don Corneo!” He tried laughing, but Cloud saw the uneasiness in his eyes. He took off the dress as quickly as possible (ripping it apart in the process); he turned first to see if she was okay. If she was surprised, she didn’t let it show. Then he walked into Corneo’s view; Corneo’s eyes grew frighteningly large when he saw Cloud.

 “You… A _man_? You tricked me!” Corneo sputtered.

 Cloud ignored him, standing with his arms crossed.

 “Shut up, we’re askin’ the questions now.” Tifa said, in her best imitation of Barret. Corneo flinched a little, but stuck up his chin.

 “Oh? And what makes you think I’d answer, lady?”

 “Because,” Tifa said, pulling out a dagger from somewhere. “I can hurt you.”

 Those years with Barret must be paying off now, Cloud thought. He was a little awed, actually, at how Corneo shrank back into his seat. He cleared his throat.

 “Look at my eyes, Corneo.”

 Corneo did, reluctantly. His eyes widened yet again when he recognized the glow of Mako for what it was.

 “That’s not – you’re not –”

 “I am. Now, talk.”

 “So why’d you send that little man snooping around?” Tifa asked. Corneo hesitated, glanced at the sharp blade in Tifa’s hand, and answered.

 “I – made ‘em find out where the man with the gun-arm was living… But, but that wasn’t my idea! I was ordered to do it!”

 “By who?”

 “It was –” Don Corneo shot a hateful look at Cloud before his opened his mouth again. His fingers were twitching all over the place. “It was Heidegger of Shinra, alright? You know, the head of Public Safety Maintenane… And I had no choice! Everybody knows you don’t mess with Shinra.”

 “Shinra?” Cloud felt his stomach tighten at the name. Whenever Shinra was involved, things never turned out right.

 “What are they up to?” Tifa asked, a sense of urgency in her voice.

 “I know Shinra’s trying to crush a small rebel group called AVALANCHE – and they’re going to crush them – literally, by breaking the support holding up the plate above them.”

 “They would do something like that?” It was Aerith, from behind, sounding sickened. “Wipe out the whole Sector for… a group of rebels?”

 Tifa had lost her words. Cloud looked at Aerith, at the horror in her eyes.

 “Yes,” he finally answered. “They would.”


	7. Fall of the Pillar

_“Big shot screaming, ‘Put your hands in the sky,’_

_He says, ‘Give it up, boy, give it up or you’re gonna die,’_

_You’ll get a bullet in the back of the neck,_

_In the back of the neck right between the eyes.”_

From _Hands In the Sky (Big Shot)_ by _Straylight Run_

-

 “Where is Dr. Hojo?” The President wanted to know. Reeve looked away. He didn’t like to be the one to tell President Shinra what the man didn’t want to hear. Nobody did.

 “I don’t – we don’t know, sir. He’s been missing. Not answering our calls.”

 “Damn scientists and their ways,” the President muttered, waving a distracted hand at Reeve. “Well, then, get out.”

 “Actually, Mister President, there was something I wanted to discuss…” Reeve started, carefully, measuring the President’s annoyance in his head. A loud knock interrupted him; followed by a mass of green suit and bushy brown beard. Heidegger barged in, beaming.

 Never a good sign.

 “Heidegger!” The President greeted him. “How’s the preparation going?”

 “Smoothly, sir, very smoothly! I assigned the Turks to the job.” Heidegger laughed; it came out like a bark. This was his chance, Reeve thought quickly. It was now or never.

 “Mister President, sir. About that… are we really going to do this? The Turks report that AVALANCHE is most likely a small group, maybe ten people at the most…”

 “What’s the problem, Reeve? Getting scared?” The President wheeled around in his chair to face Reeve. Reeve took in the haughty self-assurance on his face, suppressed an urge to throw something (a stapler, for instance) at that face.

 “It’s not that. It’s not about me,” Reeve tried, despite the defeat he already tasted on his tongue. “Total evacuation is impossible; there are bound to be civilian casualties. I know this, sir, because as the head of the Urban Development Department, I’ve been…”

 “What’s that word again, Heidegger?” The President turned his head.

 “Collateral damage, sir?”

 “Yes, yes. Read my mind, my man.” He turned back to Reeve. “Reeve, my friend, you should have flushed those personal problems in the morning. Or maybe you should have designed the city better.”

 “It’s not a personal…”

 “You’re tired, Mr. Tuesti,” the President cut in, the wide smile disappearing from his face quickly. “Why don’t you take some time off, go somewhere warm maybe?”

 The tone of his voice made it clear that it wasn’t a suggestion. He wheeled around to watch the sky out his full window.

 “Yes, sir.” He looked at the shiny silver stapler on the President’s desk, then at the back of the man’s head.

Reeve Tuesti walked out of the room.

He knew how to read between the lines. This was one of Heidegger’s more “brilliant” ideas; to kill two birds with one stone. Not only would they crush AVALANCHE, they’d find (through an anonymous but reliable source) some evidence that it had all been AVALANCHE’s doing from the first place. There were victims already standing by, ready to lie. Then Shinra would send in a rescue team. Everyone’s hero. Reeve wondered if he should have thrown that stapler at the President’s face anyway. No, he decided, that would be a stupid thing to do. Not only would he lose his job (and probably go to prison for the rest of his life), it wouldn’t stop anything. No, he needed something – cleverer. If not to stop this plan, then the next one.

There was an idea forming in his head; he cradled it carefully, walking back to his office.

-

 Crossing the Wall Market then Sector Six was going to take too much time. Tifa knew a shortcut straight to Sector Seven. It was through the sewers, not that anyone had the mind to complain.

 Cloud climbed in first. The smell hit him first; he vaguely thought of rotten fish, but it didn’t matter; it also didn’t matter that it was yet another tight, narrow space. If the dizzying stench didn’t numb him, the loud, crashing voices in his head would. He heard Aerith and Tifa climb down the ladder after him.

 “You alright?” He asked, waiting for his vision to adjust to the sudden darkness.

 “Considering, yeah,” Tifa said. Her voice multiplied against the metal walls.

 Cloud squinted. “There’s a – narrow patch of brick against the walls. Like a sidewalk.”

 For a while they walked in silence. There was nothing to say, anyway. Cloud tried not to think about the fact that Barret, Jessie, Biggs and Wedge all hadn’t answered their phones. Maybe it was too late. Maybe it would be smoking, broken remains that they would see, like the last time. Too late. He listened to his own breathing. Maybe he was already dead, too – had been, all this time. Too late.

 Cloud climbed out the sewer, breaking open the lid. Light – as dim as it was, under-plate – exploded against his eyes. He held out his hand for Aerith and Tifa.

 They were in the train graveyard. Broken trains, all dead, stood guard around them, eerily silent. The pillar hadn’t broken yet.

 “We still have time,” Tifa said.

 “Yeah, but we don’t know how much,” Cloud said. “Which way’s the station?”

 Maybe they both knew it was (too late) a slim chance, but the sewer-stench had carried out into the air and they were numb, still. Cloud turned to Aerith.

 “Aerith, you go home. Please. I’m sorry I got you mixed up in all this.”

 “Honestly, Cloud. By now you should know – I don’t listen to my own mother.”

 “But you can’t –” Cloud felt like he would shatter against his words, the lack of it, the inadequacy. “Do you know how to disarm a bomb?”

 “Do you?” Aerith said. She smiled a little; she would die smiling, Cloud thought.

 “Come on, then, let’s go.”

 They started running, in between dead, broken trains.

-

 People were running in all directions, not sure where to go. Sector Seven Station had never seen so much – people, chaos, noise. It was almost like a festival, Tifa thought distantly, if not for all the screaming and the gunshots. The thing about running from a falling sky was that there was nowhere to run to.

 Gunshots. They were coming from up the stairs, up the pillar. They were still fighting. Barret, Biggs, Jessie, Wedge, everyone. Tifa felt her heart beat fast. Maybe it wasn’t too late.

 “You here that?” Cloud said, eyes wild, maybe also hoping. They ran against the tide of people to the pillar, up the sky, to stop it cracking.

 On the second floor they saw Wedge.

 Wedge, slumped against the wall, blood dripping slowly, glasses askew on his boyish face.

 “Barret’s up top,” he said into Cloud’s shoulder. Tifa hadn’t seen Cloud dart out, in an useless attempt to help Wedge sit up. She was frozen in the spot, which was stupid, but Wedge’s normally quiet voice carried to where she stood easily enough. “Help him, and… I’m sorry. I wasn’t – much – any – help.”

 Maybe Cloud said something to that, but Tifa didn’t hear. Wedge took a deep breath, and was still. Cloud adjusted his glasses, even though they were broken. Blood made patterns on his white face.

 “Let’s go,” Cloud said as he ran past her. “We have to go help Barret.”

 Tifa took one last look at Wedge. She turned to Aerith, who hadn’t moved either, who wasn’t staring at Wedge but somewhere above his limp body – like she was searching for something. “Aerith, listen. Could you do me a favor? I have a bar called Seventh Heaven just north of the station – and there’ a little girl called Marlene.”

 “Don’t worry. I’ll get her somewhere safe.”

 Aerith took one look at Cloud, who’d stopped halfway up the stairs, and started running back the way they came. Tifa wondered if she thought this was goodbye – and maybe she’d regret not having said anything, later, but then it would be too late.

 Tifa followed Cloud up the stairs.

 Biggs was already dead at the fourth floor. Slouched over the metal fence, staring at his death through the mess of burnt hair. There was the smell of fire, the loud clanging of gunshots, all so tangible, almost. Someone was still alive. Tifa watched Cloud close Biggs’s eyes, his face dead (wrong choice of words, Tifa thought, but maybe Biggs would be amused – he’d had the weirdest sense of humor).

 Jessie wouldn’t be alive, Tifa knew. She would have watched Wedge and Biggs fall; she wouldn’t be alive. They found her staring up a few floors up. It was Tifa who ran to her first this time, because she thought – she could have sworn she saw her blink, Jessie, and smile; she was warm, still, wet and slippery with all the blood, but she was already dead. Tifa wiped the blood on her dress; it looked like petals floating on water.

 Cloud touched her shoulder. There would be time later, Tifa thought, to think of them and grieve them and say thank you for being family, and maybe listen to that story of Biggs’s teen years Jessie’s always promised to tell but never did.

 So she nodded to Cloud, and they both ran up the last stairs.

-

 When they reached the top of the pillar, Barret was taking cover behind the control tower, while a helicopter fired ceaselessly over everything, breaking concrete. Barret yelled over the noise at them.

 “Tifa! Cloud! You came – be careful an’ run over here quickly!”

 Cloud and Tifa lowered their bodies and ran. A small fire exploded where they’d been standing a second ago. Cloud heard the bullets showering over them, near them. He caught his breath against the cover of the control room, not that it was going to last much longer; the  helicopter was trying to change the angle, to fly over.

 “Barret – we saw Jessie and Biggs and Wedge –” Tifa said. Barret nodded, fired another round over the edge and ducked down again.

 “I know, Tifa, I –”

 Sudden silence interrupted him. Cloud could still smell gunpowder everywhere, but the firing had stopped. 

 “I know you’re behind there!” A voice shouted. “And I could – you know – fly over your sleazy cover and finish you, but I won’t bother ‘cause yer going down anyways.”

 The voice fell into place inside Cloud’s head; it was Reno, the Turk who’d come for Aerith.

 “It’s too late to stop me!” Reno continued. “Once I press this button…”

 Cloud risked a look over the cover, just in time to catch Reno pushing a red button on the control panel of the helicopter. It was flying quite low; if Cloud ran, he could probably jump and make it into the helicopter, push Reno off…

“That’s all, folks! Mission accomplished… Agh!” Reno yelped; Cloud had jumped, landed inside the helicopter, and Reno stumbled until he fell through the open opposite door. Cloud barely had the time to glimpse the end of his flaming red hair before Tifa jumped in after him. He hoped he hadn’t killed him.

 “We have to disarm it – Cloud, I don’t know how to stop this. Take a look.”

 Cloud looked at the complicated mess of colorful wires on the panel. He’d been taught basic bomb disarmament, but not ones as complicated as this, and besides – he couldn’t remember a single thing – although he was _sure_ he’d been taught –

 “It’s not a normal time bomb,” he said instead, glaring at the wires and hoping they would sort themselves out. But it wasn’t Tifa who answered.

 “That’s right. You’ll have a hard time disarming that one. Might as well give up now.”

 It wasn’t Reno, either. Another helicopter was flying low, close enough to see the person in it but too far to jump into. It was another Turk, Cloud gathered from his uniform; black hair neatly tied into a short ponytail; the man had cold eyes. Cloud thought he was the head of the Turks, though he wasn’t really sure what made him think that.

 “In fact,” he carried on, in a level voice. “Only a Shinra Executive can set up or disarm the Emergency Plate Release System. You need a pass code.”

 “I suppose I can’t just ask you for it,” Cloud muttered.

 “Hey! Shut yer hole and stop this nonsense!” Barret hollered at the Turk from below, firing his gun-arm at the general direction of the second blue helicopter. It maneuvered out of the way.

 “I wouldn’t try that!” The Turk called. “You might hurt our special guest.”

 He opened the door of the helicopter a little wider, and then Cloud saw a second person inside – it didn’t seem all that real. He stared.

 “Aerith!” Tifa called.

 He’d let her go – no, it might have been more dangerous staying here, but still – he’d dragged her into the whole thing – never mind that she wouldn’t go, the truth was he didn’t want her to go. Something about this whole thing with him falling through her roof, the yellow flowers, the patch of sky between plates; he’d deluded himself (again) into thinking it was something like fate.

 “What do you want with Aerith? Why are you after her?” His voice, though, came out calmer than he felt. The Turk seemed to consider him, at the panel at Cloud’s side.

 “Our orders were to find and capture the last remaining Ancient,” he finally answered, voice slow. “I have no knowledge of what is planned for her afterwards.”

 “Tifa!” Aerith suddenly called, leaning a little forward out the window. “Don’t worry about – she’s alright!”

 “Enough,” the man cut her off, slamming the door shut. Then the helicopter flew away. Before Cloud could say anything, before he could think anything, the control panels were beeping and Tifa was pulling him arm, then they were jumping and she said something that was drowned out by all the noise. Barret was gesturing wildly at something by his side. A wire. He grabbed it, pulled it free; all the noise, it was hard to think, so he just pulled and pulled and as soon as they crashed onto the ground and let go of the wire, the bomb went off.

 They didn’t even have time to cover their heads, before the pillar exploded. And fell down. The world was a messy blur; Cloud felt his body flatten against the ground, felt the noises. It didn’t get better when the smoke finally cleared and they slowly sat up, checking to make sure that they all had their limbs in place. They did.

 But then they turned around and saw the mess. The pillar broken, the slum crushed, people who hadn’t yet escaped lying about scattered, crushed, limbs and faces missing.

 For the first time in years, sunlight from a clear blue sky.

-

 The wire had taken them far. They had landed in the Sector Six playground, where Aerith and Cloud had sat and looked at nothing and hadn’t talked. It was now littered with smoking debris from Sector Seven (or what used to be).

 Barret fired at the debris, the sound of gunshots echoing eerily through nothing.

 “Barret, Barret! Calm down!” Tifa put a hand on his arm.

 “But Tifa! Biggs, Jessie, Wedge… Marlene…”

 “Marlene is safe.” Tifa said. Barret turned his head finally, and Cloud had perhaps expected tears, but there were none; only hatred and anger that exploded red into debris.

 “What?” He breathed, not daring to hope.

 “Right before they took Aerith, she said don’t worry, she’s alright. She was talking about Marlene. I asked her to take her somewhere safe…” She trailed off, and Cloud knew why (too familiar). He could tell her it wasn’t her fault, but she probably already knew that.

 “Thanks, Tifa,” Barret said, taking a breath. He flopped down heavily onto the ground. Dusty smoke flew up in the air. “But they’re dead, ain’t they?”

 “They…” Tifa started to speak, but then stopped. It wasn’t really a question, anyway. Cloud looked at her, waiting, but she didn’t say anything else. There was wind sweeping through the scraps of metal and wood, and it reminded him that it was early December still, start of winter.

 “Do you think…” She started again. “That it’s our fault? Because AVALANCHE was here? I mean, innocent people lost their lives because of…”

 Barret stood up. “No, Tifa!” He was getting worked up again, face turning red. “That ain’t it! Hell, no!” He started pacing back and forth. “It ain’t us! It’s the damn Shinra… It’s never been nobody but the Shinra! Do you believe me?”

 “I suppose.”

 Cloud watched Tifa’s eyelashes making dancing shadows on her face. Another gush of wind. He realized he’d been absently rubbing his fingers together, as if to erase a stain. He stopped. Suddenly it felt like too much; looking at Tifa and Barret, their dead faces, her green eyes, how messed up this all was. He turned around.

 “Yo! Where’s he think he’s goin’?” Barret growled behind him. Cloud kept walking.

 “Aerith!” Cloud heard Tifa gasp. “They took Aerith.”

 “Oh, yeah. That girl. What’s the deal with her?” Barret asked.

 “I don’t really know, but she’s the one I left Marlene with –”

 “Damn! Yo, wait up, Cloud!”

 Cloud stopped walking. Barret and Tifa caught up with him and he realized, suddenly, that Tifa was still wearing that blue dress, though she was barefoot now, without the heels. He wondered if it really was this morning that he’d looked at himself in the mirror and felt like dying.

 “Take me to Marlene,” Barret demanded.

 “You’re going to rescue Aerith?” Tifa asked. Cloud looked at her feet, bare and cut; bleeding, but she probably hadn’t noticed it yet.

 “Yeah,” he said. “But before that, there’s something I want to know.”

 “What?”

 “About the Ancients.”

 Because he remembered something else.

  _In my veins courses the blood of the Ancients._

 That was a voice he knew well, he would’ve thought, but he wasn’t so sure anymore; Sephiroth’s voice. He couldn’t remember when he’d said it or where he’d heard it, but he remembered. His dead, raging, blazing green eyes. And now the Turk was saying that Aerith was one, too. He had to know.

 But before that.

 “Tifa,” he said. “You’re not wearing shoes.”

 “What?” She looked surprised, looking down at her feet. Cloud glanced at Barret’s gun-arm, and unhooked his sword from his back.

 “It’s a long way to Aerith’s house. I’ll carry you, c’mon.”

 “But –” Tifa started to protest, looking a little flustered. But there was nothing else they could do, anyway, and she climbed on his back but she was hesitant. Strange, Cloud thought, because she sometimes used to demand that he piggyback her when they were kids, and get cross when he didn’t. He supposed that they had grown up; but all this Mako-enhanced strength, he hardly felt a thing.


	8. The Rescue

Both Tifa and Barret had insisted that they come, too; Barret said that it was only fair since Aerith helped Marlene; Tifa told him that she’d go crazy, if she didn’t do something, and Cloud had let them both even though he didn’t want to drag anyone into anything again because – well, because they both looked like they might find other ways to do something stupid, anyway. They both had that look in their eyes. And also, Cloud had seen the pillar fall and saw their dead eyes too, so he let them.

“Hey, you oughta know the building well,” Barret was saying now, forcing cheerfulness into his voice. They had managed to climb up to the plate by a thick wire. A guard had spotted them as soon as the poked their heads out, but Barret had hit him with his gun-arm and now he was lying crumpled on the ground, unconscious. There wasn’t any more guards in front of the Shinra building; busy cleaning up the mess in Sector Seven, Cloud assumed.

“Not really, now that I think about it.” Cloud answered Barret. “It’s actually the first time I’ve ever been to the… Headquarters.” Which was weird, if Cloud thought about it hard, but he let it go. They were here to rescue Aerith.

“Well, _I_ heard about this place before,” Barret said. “Every floor above the 60th is special and not easy to get to, even for employees. Must be where they took the g – Aerith.” He stood tall with his gun-arm hanging by his side, sweeping the place with his eyes. Everything felt deliberate, somehow, every flicker of the eyes and the forced laughter (bark) he let out sometimes, like it was all scripted; but that could just be Cloud. “The security’s pretty light now. Awright, let’s go!”

 Cloud thought he was joking, and was about to say something to that, when Barret started walking to the front door. Tifa grabbed his arm.

 “Wait, stop. You’re not thinking of just walking right through the main entrance, are you?” Her voice was a little strange, too.

 “Well,” Barret shook of Tifa’s arm, a little irritably. “What does it look like? What, you want me to knock first? I’m gonna kick some Shinra ass and you can’t stop me!”

 “That’s not going to work!” Tifa’s face was in between crying and laughing. She turned to Cloud. “Hey, Cloud, say something!”

 “But I…”

 “What’s wrong with chargin’ in through the front door? They’re all at the – the _site_ anyway! Ain’t it right, Cloud? C’mon, you’re the expert.”

 “Well, but…”

 “That’s so stupid! Everyone will be shooting at us! Are you gonna just walk in and say, _take me to your leader_?”

 “Alright, guys, stop.” Cloud finally had to step in between them. They were drawing too much attention from the people passing by. They had changed their clothes and done the best to clean up, but there were still specks of blood on the backs of their hands and the dust from the fallen pillar, the rubbles, was still matted in their hairs. “We have to calm down.”

 Tifa took a deep breath. “Right. Sorry, Cloud. I guess I just –”

 “It’s their faces,” Barret said. They looked at him. He shrugged. “But reckon you’re right. Whaddya want us to do?”

 “We’ll go around back, find a different route to sneak in.” Cloud said, relieved that they have finally stopped bickering. He didn’t think he could have taken any more of that. He didn’t want to blame them, though. He knew better; living with death – he was the expert on that. Faces. Voices. Eyes.

-

 After some snooping around, they finally found a side entrance inside the underground parking lot. A large column was hiding it from view. The door had gathered dust, possibly (hopefully) long-forgotten.

 Barret yanked at the door first. It didn’t budge. He took a step back, took a breath, and was about to kick it open when Tifa tackled his leg.

 “Hey, Tifa! What’re you doin’?” Barret hissed, as he stumbled to regain his balance.

 “It’s gonna make too much noise,” Tifa said. “I’ll pick the lock.”

 “You can do that?” Cloud said, a little surprised. He watched her work with some fascination; after several seconds, the lock opened with a soft _click._

 “There, done.”

 “Nice job, Tifa,” Cloud said, and Tifa grinned at him. It occurred to Cloud that Tifa would make a better hero than him; perhaps they were getting this all backwards.

 The door opened to reveal a long white staircase, coated with dust and adorned with spider webs. Barret made a face.

 “Don’t tell me – we gonna take the stairs all the way up to the sixtieth floor?”

 Instead of answering, Cloud started walking up. A set of gray footprints on the dust followed him up the stairs.

 “It’s gonna be a long climb.” He heard Tifa say, behind him. After some grumbling, Barret followed too. The dust had even coated the air, thickly, heavy and stale.

-

 “Don’t know – why – the hell – aw, spider!” Barret yelped. His breath was heavy and rumbling. Cloud glanced back at him doubtfully.

 “Come on, Barret,” he said. “Tifa’s holding up okay. So am I. After all, we’re only on…” he paused to check the sign. “The twentieth floor.”

 Tifa chuckled, which earned a glare from Barret. “Don’t be too hard on him, Cloud,” she said. “We lived in the mountains when we were kids. He didn’t.”

 “That’s a damn – good – point.” Barret nodded at Tifa.

 “What, were you a city boy, Barret?” Cloud said.

 “Why you gotta make it – sound so –” Barret scrunched up his face. “And anyway, who is this girl? I mean, I’m all for helpin’ her, don’t get me wrong – she saved Marlene and I’d do anything for her – but who’s she to you? Another childhood friend?”

 Tifa had fallen quiet. She was watching him now, with an unreadable look.

 “No, not really. We just met – today.”

 “Huh, then –”

 “She needs help, and I can give it. Do I need another reason?” Cloud said dismissively, turning around. He started walking again. They weren’t even halfway up yet.

 “Huh,” Barret said, dragging his feet. “Guess I had you figured wrong.”

 “Don’t try to figure me out. It’s creepy.” Cloud muttered, didn’t look back. He heard them following. Tifa had been quiet for some time now; Cloud wondered what she was thinking.

 “It’s not one of them endless stairways or somethin’, d’ya think?” Barret asked after a while.

 “No –” Cloud heard Tifa answer. “What even is an endless stairway?”

 “Marlene, daddy wanted to see your face once more…”

 “Barret –”

 “Okay, awright, I’m climbin’.”

-

 When they arrived at level 59, they found that there weren’t any stairs leading to the 60th floor.

 “Looks like this is as far as we’re gonna get by the stairs,” Cloud said, tapping the wall absently, trying to think.

 Barret threw his head back, flopping down onto the ground, panting heavily. “Good. Finally… made it… never wanna see no more stairs the rest of my life…”

 Tifa looked a little tired, too, leaning against the wall next to Cloud.

 “So what now? Do we –”

 Her words were cut short by the exit door suddenly bursting open. Two guards walked in; their chatter ended abruptly as they spotted the three of them there. A moment of silence passed in which everyone was too surprised to act. Then,

 “What’s goin’ on there, buddy?” Another guard called from the outside. And that was their cue; Barret jumped up immediately, and Tifa dropped down, as guns began to fire. Cloud ducked and rushed at them, out the exit door, taking the nearest one down with him. He wanted to look back to see if Tifa and Barret were okay, but no time – there were more guards out in the corridor, not just one.

 Old reflexes took over. Soon it was his sword, slicing through the air and splattering blood and he grew calmer with every swing, every hit. This was familiar. This was what he knew. And then the fight was over. Cloud found himself standing amidst fallen bodies, pools of blood. Had he killed them? They weren’t moving, at any rate, and Cloud clicked his sword in place behind his back.

 “Clear.”

 Tifa and Barret, it turned out, had been right behind him. Barret muttered something about his speed (which sounded suspiciously like a compliment), and they hurried past him. When he didn’t follow immediately, Tifa threw a glance back.

 “Coming, Cloud?”

 “Yeah,” he said, taking a step forward. All the blood on his sword. So heavy.

 But soon he forgot.

 “Let’s get outta here, quick.” Barret said, jogging ahead. Cloud followed.

 At the other end of the corridor they found another staircase (much to Barret’s horror); they checked each floor as they went up. Mostly the floors were empty; storage rooms, empty conference rooms, silent offices. It looked like they had picked a good time. Most of the employees were probably busy dealing with the mess at – Cloud stopped his thought there.

 There were a couple more fights when they ran into guards patrolling the hallways, but they all ended quickly. Soon they were standing in front of a door that read 66. Cloud put his ear to the door, listening for noises through the walls. Moments later, he nodded at Barret and Tifa: clear, no sound of hostilities.

 They moved quickly, quietly. The corridor was empty, gray, like the rest of the building. They walked along the flawless marble. Just when Cloud was thinking this was another dead-end, an empty floor, he heard voices.

 He stopped, holding up a hand; Tifa and Barret stopped also. The voices were coming from the next corridor. Cloud inched forward; with every step the sound got clearer, until he could tell the words apart. There were low voices; some excited, some worried. Cloud sneaked a peak.

 The second door to the right was left ajar, and he could just make out a bunch of people sitting around what looked like a meeting table.

 “Geez – that’s a lotta suits!”

 Barret whispered, almost in his ears, and Cloud nearly jumped out of his skin.

 “Cut it out, Barret!” He hissed, to which Barret just shrugged.

 Tifa threw a look at Cloud that was almost apologetic, and moved closer quietly. The three of them listened to the conversation inside the room.

 “We have the damage estimates for Sector Seven,” a man was saying. “Considering those factories we already set up and the investments, the estimated cost to rebuild Sector Seven is –”

 “We’re not rebuilding.” A deep voice interrupted the man. Cloud recognized the voice as belonging to President Shinra. As did Tifa and Barret; Barret growled a little, and Tifa shushed him.

 Cloud’s heart began to beat a little faster. President Shinra was here. Which meant that they had come to the right place, after all. They were at the heart of Shinra.

 “What?”

 “We’re leaving Sector Seven as it is, and restarting the Neo-Midgar Plan.”

 “Then the Ancients…?”

 “The Promised Land will soon be ours. I want you to raise the Mako rates to 15% in every district.”

 President Shinra’s voice had a sense of authority that was indisputable. The first voice fell silent. Then another voice, more chipper, chimed in.

 “Rate hike! Ha, what a brilliant idea, sir! And please include our Space Program in the budget!”

 “Reeve and Scarlet will divide the extra income from the rate increase,” the President answered.

 The first voice spoke up then, a little hesitant. “Mr. President, if you raise the rates, the people will lose confidence in…”

 “An unnecessary worry. If anything, they will trust Shinra even more,” the President said dismissively. “After all, we’re the ones who saved them from the evil terrorist rats AVALANCHE.”

 The room chuckled politely. Cloud saw the back of the first man, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He wondered who it could be.

 “Who saved _who_? That dirty little…”

 Barret growled beside Cloud.

 “Shh,” Tifa put a warning hand on his arm. Barret fell into a reluctant, fuming silence.

 “Hojo, how is the girl?” The President was asking. Were they talking about Aerith?

 “As a specimen, she is inferior to her mother. I’m still in the process of comparing her to her mother, Iflana, but for now the difference is 18%.”

 Specimen – what the hell was he talking about? But somehow Cloud found it hard to concentrate on what he was saying, his head and stomach crunching, crumbling; something about that man’s voice – Hojo – sickened him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself.

 “How long will the research take?”

 “Oh, at this rate, a very, very long time. About 120 years. It’s impossible to finish in our lifetimes. Or in the lifetime of the specimen too, for that matter. That’s why we’re thinking of breeding her. Then we could create one that could withstand our research for a long time, like we did with –”

 “Yes, yes. But as I recall, that experiment didn’t exactly go as planned, did it?”

 “Well, times have changed.”

 Barret looked like he wanted to jump out and kill him where he stood; a sentiment that Cloud shared, but not yet – he gritted his teeth. They were still talking.

 “What about the Promised Land? Wouldn’t it hinder our plans?” The President asked.

 “That’s what I need to plan. The mother is strong… and yet has her weaknesses. I still need some time.”

 “Alright, then, you work on that, Doctor. That concludes our meeting. Oh, and please, answer your phone next time you want to disappear.”

 There were sounds of chairs dragging across the floor, people murmuring. Cloud, Tifa and Barret were just able to hide themselves behind a stone column before people started to pour out of the room. They were all in dark suits, except for one woman – she stood out in her brilliant golden hair and eye-hurting red dress. She paused, while the others walked on ahead. Then she turned her head to eye the corridor suspiciously and for a moment, Cloud thought that their eyes had met, but then her dark blue eyes turned away, uninterested.

 After they had all disappeared, even the President with a Turk accompanying them (and it was sheer luck that the Turk hadn’t noticed them, Cloud thought, being too busy listening to the President going on about his pork pie), Cloud let out a sigh.

 “They were talking about Aerith, right?” Tifa said.

 “I don’t know.” Cloud said, though he did. It couldn’t have been anything else.

 “So what do we do?” Barret said, adjusting his gun-arm. He had a stormy expression on his face.

 “We find her. We follow the scientist.”

 “That sick bastard – Hojo?” Barret growled. Cloud nodded; just the mention of his name brought waves of nausea. His mouth was dry.

 “Yeah. Hojo.”

-

 It wasn’t hard to follow the sound of Hojo’s footsteps, since the rest of the building was so devoid of it. Cloud watched him enter the elevator, and the number stopped at 67. They took the stairs; for once, Barret didn’t complain.

 “I remember him, now,” he said instead. “That Hojo guy. He’s in charge of the Shinra’s science department – I knew I heard that name somewhere – Hey, Cloud, don’t ya know him?”

 Cloud shook his head. “No.”

 Although, something about that felt wrong, so wrong, clashing with something fundamental in his head. He shook his head again to dispel the feeling, opened the door to the sixty-seventh floor. They walked down the unsurprisingly empty hallway until they found a gray door that had Hojo’s name on it. After listening with his ear to the door, Cloud motioned to Tifa and Barret: there was nobody inside. He cracked open the door.

 The room was dark, mostly. There were tangles mess of wires and lines and cords covering every inch of the wall and most of the floor, which was lit by a faint shimmering light. The  source of the light wasn’t hard to find; in the center of the room was an enormous tank, from which a teal blue light was being emitted. And inside the tank, connected to thick hoses and tubes, was –

 “Jenova.”

 It was barely a whisper. Blood flooded into his mind and eyes, making him see red – green – everything, so black, Jenova’s lifeless head – he thought that he saw her eyes look up to him. He swore he saw her flinch, maybe smile, a cold assessment and an accusation. Cloud wanted to run away. He took a shaky step back and fell a thousand miles.

 “Cloud – Cloud!” Tifa was calling him. Somehow her voice reached him, through the thick haze of his confusion, and he looked at her. She had her hands in a tight grip on his shoulders.

 “Tifa?”

 Her eyes were stained with Jenova’s green, the Mako’s green.

 “Cloud, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

 “Jenova. It’s Jenova.”

 “That thing? What is Jenova?”

 “Jenova... Jenova is… Sephiroth’s… So they brought it here – Did you see?”

 His words came out broken, not quite forming a sentence. He was confused. These reactions that he had, that didn’t make much sense.

 “See what?” Barret sounded worried. It all sounded very distant.

 “It moved. I thought it moved. Still alive?”

 The memory, no, the vision; the memory? Of Jenova’s empty gray eyes, hollow, looking back at him. He forced his eyes open (didn’t remember when he closed them) and tried to concentrate on Tifa, Barret, his sword, anything.

 “The head. Didn’t it move? Isn’t it moving?”

 “There’s no head, dammit!”

 “No head?”

 Cloud made himself look. The green glow threatened to overwhelm his senses, flowed into his eyes and nose and ears. Barret was right, though. There was no head. Just the body. The headless body of Jenova, connected to tubes and cords and floating in a thick jelly of Mako. Cloud looked away. Took a breath. He refused to be – _weak_ , crazy – whatever – and if there was no head, then he could bear this, somehow.

 Tifa’s eyes were still brown, he reminded himself, under the teal blue reflection.

 “I’m okay now.,” he said. And before Barret and Tifa said anything, he turned and walked out of the room. Did not look back.

 As soon as he heard the door close behind Barret, he started to walk faster again. If Aerith wasn’t on this floor, then the next floor, then the next, until they find her. He pushed the vision (the memory) of Jenova’s head out of his mind.

 On the next floor, they found another door with Hojo’s name on it.

 Cloud burst in with his sword this time, not bothering to be quiet, not giving himself the time to hesitate. Tifa looked startled, and Barret muttered, _finally_ , before he rushed in after Cloud, gun-arm poised.

 “Aerith!” Cloud heard himself call. Something about Jenova (and the tubes, and the Mako pool, and Hojo keeping her headless body here – where the hell was the head, anyway?) had made him reckless, and in some part of his mind he regretted this, but it was too late and anyway, he saw Hojo jump up from his desk in the middle of the room.

 “Aerith? Oh, is that her name? What do you want?” He asked, too calm for Cloud’s liking.

 “Ain’t it obvious, nuthead? We’re takin’ her back!” Barret growled, cocking his gun.

 “Oh, is that a gun prosthetic? Interesting. Can I have a look?”

 Barret gasped. “No – you _can’t_ have a look – damn – you –” He seemed to be having a difficult time, finding a word bad enough for Hojo.

 “Where’s Aerith?” Cloud tightened his grip of the sword. Hojo didn’t flinch at the sword pointing to his neck. He smoothed out his hair, looking a little wearied.

 “There are so many frivolous things in the world.”

 “Shut up, will you?” Tifa said. Hojo looked at her, with an interest that raised some kind of an elemental hatred in Cloud’s stomach.

 “You are here to kill me? I don’t think you should. See, the equipments here are extremely delicate… and without me, who could operate them?”

 “As if we care about yer stupid equipment, ya stupid –”

 “ _And_ ,” Hojo held up a finger. “A wrong touch, and… _whoops._ The whole place could blow up.”

 Cloud narrowed his eyes, trying to see if Hojo was bluffing. It didn’t look like it. Hojo was, it seemed to Cloud, just a paranoid bastard enough to have some sort of self-destructing back-up plan in place.

 Cloud lowered his sword.

 “That’s right. I recommend you think things out logically before you make any rash moves.”

 “What do you want with Aerith?” He asked through gritted teeth. He was holding the sword so tightly that it hurt.

 “People misunderstand me. They like to make me out as some sort of a heartless demon… When, in fact, I’m simply lending a helping hand to some endangered species.”

 “Endangered species?” Tifa asked, voice disgusted.

 “Yes, both the Ancients and the…”

 Hojo never got a chance to finish.

 “To hell with you, Hojo!” Barret was yelling, firing (maybe he didn’t get Hojo’s implications earlier, Cloud thought) into the glass door behind Hojo. Glass shattered; metal shrieked, and so did Hojo, his mask finally breaking.

 “What are you doing! God, will you _stop_ –”

 “Barret –” And whatever Cloud was going to say didn’t matter, because from behind the glass door Aerith walked out. “Don’t shoot!” He yelled instead, holding Barret back. The damage was done, anyway. Hojo was scraping the pieces of his equipment from the floor, muttering. It was only a matter of time before he recovered enough to call security – they had to get out of here.

 “Cloud!” Aerith looked surprised.

 “Aerith – c’mon, we have to go –”

 “Wait, Red XIII has to come, too.”

 “Who’s –”

 A blur of red caught his eyes. A strange red beast appeared behind Aerith’s legs, flicking its tail and staring at Cloud with an ocher eye. Its other eye was closed by a scar.

 “Didn’t you hear a word I said?” Hojo yelped, jumping up. “I told you about the explos –”

 “Shut yer yammerin’,” Barret said, and knocked him out with a blow to his head. Tifa flinched.

 “So how did you know he was bluffing?” She asked, stepping over Hojo.

 “What? Whatcha talkin’ about?”

 “… Never mind.”

 Cloud put away his sword, went over to Aerith and the strange beast – Red XIII, she’s called it.

 “Hey, you okay?”

 “Yes. I – thanks, Cloud.” She turned to Tifa and Barret, too. “Thanks, Tifa. And – you must be Marlene’s daddy.”

 “Hey, how’d you know?” Barret said, brightening up. “She talk about me?”

 Aerith smiled. “Yes. I recognize you from her description.”

“We can introduce ourselves later,” Cloud said, interrupting them. He was looking at the elevators through Hojo’s open door, and the numbers were climbing. “We have to move out, now.”

 “I’ll help you out.”

 An unfamiliar voice came from behind. Cloud looked back, startled, and found Red XIII staring at him, straight.

 “It talked?” Barret gurgled. Red XIII shot a look that might have been a little contemptuous.

 “Aerith helped me out, and you’re her friends.”

 Cloud glanced back at the elevators; the numbers were steadily increasing. Sixty, now.

 “Tifa,” he said, turning back. The clock was ticking inside his head again, like it did in the reactor. “Take Aerith, use the stairs. We’ll meet downstairs.”

 “But what about –”

 “We’ll buy you guys some time. Look, I’m counting on you, okay?”

 Tifa nodded, took Aerith’s hand and started to run. Cloud watched them go, felt the clock, turned to Red XIII and Barret.

 “We’ll deal with the guards coming now, and follow.”

 “Fine,” Red XIII nodded. Barret cocked his gun without saying anything.

 The elevators chimed cheerfully; the doors opened slowly, too slowly and then guards – no, something else, strange creatures in black armors – came pouring out. Red XIII was fast; he leapt forward, a red blur, and Cloud followed him with sword drawn. Barret’s gun was firing already.

 Even as he slashed, stabbed, sliced through the creatures, he couldn’t tell if they were humans or monsters, hidden behind black cloaks. All he knew was that they didn’t fall easily; they stumbled back up, somehow, with their guns, like they couldn’t feel any pain. Up, up again, and soon Cloud was losing count. Was this the same one he’d stabbed just a moment ago?

 Then it was over. He looked down at the tangled mess of – bodies – and Hojo was nowhere to be seen. Probably escaped amidst the confusion.

 “Awright, let’s go,” Barret said. Cloud stepped over the black cloaks and started running toward the staircase.

-

 “Aerith, you all right?” 

 “Yes… is that blood?”

 Realizing what she was staring at, Cloud wiped off the blood from his face.

 “It’s not mine,” he said, hastily. Feeling suddenly a little awkward, he turned away, to find Red XIII and Barret talking.

 “… I have the right to choose, too. I don’t like two-legged things.”

 Red XIII had a deep voice that was shadowed, and it was hard to believe that the half-lion, half-cat-looking creature was actually talking, and not just moving its lips.

 “What you sayin’? What are you, anyway?” Barret said, his voice filling the small storage room they’d found two floors below; Tifa and Aerith hadn’t gone far, with batches of guards coming up the stairs too.

 “An informed question, but difficult to answer,” Red XIII said, to Barret’s annoyance. “I am what you see.”

 “Stop talkin’ that kinda philosophical nonsense.”

 “I will tell you what I can, later, but first, we must get out of here.”

 “You know the way?” Cloud asked. The guards hadn’t found them yet, but it was only a matter of time.

 “I have a keen sense of smell.”

 Cloud considered him; in the end, he nodded, because there really was no other choice.

 Apparently, though, Red XIII _did_ know his way around the place. They walked silently, nerves fraught with tension, but didn’t encounter anyone.

 Until, that is, they walked straight into a group of Turks.

 “Planning on using this elevator?”

 Cloud recognized the man as the one who’d taken Aerith, the man in a short black ponytail. He didn’t recognize the other man, who was bold and wearing dark glasses. He stood still like a statue, but Cloud knew that he could draw his gun in a second, fire in two. Alone, he could’ve risked it, but with the others…

 “What’s this, a trap?” Barret growled.

 “Would you press ‘up’, please?” The sunglasses-man said, gesturing at the elevator button.

 “Where are you taking us?” Cloud asked. He was searching for a way out in his head, but didn’t see one. He shouldn’t have let his guard down like that, trusting Red XIII… He reached out for the button.

 In a second, two sets of hands were on him. The bald man and another Turk were grabbing his shoulders, pushing him against the wall beside the elevator. Cloud gasped, breath knocked out of him.

 “Don’t try anything. You don’t want Aerith to get hurt now, after all you’ve done.” The ponytail-man, who Cloud assumed was the leader, said.

 “I was just going to –”

 Something cold strapped his wrists. Handcuffs. This was not going well.

 “What do you think –” Barret stepped forward, his face red, but the Turk held up his hand.

 “Now, let’s play nice, for each other’s sakes. Our orders are to take you to the President’s office.”

 And there really was nothing they could do. Barret glared at the Turks, but had no choice but to follow them. The cuffs jingled against Cloud’s wrist, bruising his bones. He didn’t waste energy resisting; Barret, on the other hand, never stopped twisting and swearing and thumping his feet that both he and his captor were exhausted by the time they arrived at the President’s office. Red XIII was chained; his low growl was a constant back-noise, making all of them a little uneasy.

 There were too many Turks and guards in the President’s office, Cloud noted with a sense of doom. The President wheeled around in his chair as they walked in (for dramatic effect, Cloud assumed), holding an unlit cigar in his hand.

 “Well, well, if it isn’t the Ancient girl and… the rest.”

 “Hey, we’re –”

 Before Barret could provide an unnecessary information, Red XIII interrupted.

 “She’s a survivor of the Cetra?”

 “What’s a Cetra?” Cloud asked, feeling a little disoriented. He looked at Aerith, but she wasn’t looking at him. She looked – a little sad, if Cloud had to say, and for some reason Cloud felt guilty about that, like it was _his_ fault that she was here. Maybe it was.

 “The Ancients. They called themselves the Cetra. You _do_ know who the Ancients are…?” The President, now that he had them in chains, was taking his time, twirling his cigar. “They were a race of people who lived thousands of years ago – now, of course, they’re just a forgotten page in history.”

 “And –” Cloud started. He had to buy time, while he thought of – there must be something he could do, some escape plan he hadn’t thought of yet. He searched the office with his eyes, but all he saw was a wall of Turks (impenetrable), a too-high (and probably bulletproof) window. “What do you want with the Cetra? What’s it to you?”

 “The Cetra can lead us to the Promised Land.”

 Aerith looked up at that. She was still quiet, though, and the President was still talking like she wasn’t there in the room – not as a person, at least, just an _asset_.

 Cloud recognized the mention of the Promised Land in the meeting they’d overheard earlier, but still he couldn’t figure out what it was.

 “The Promised Land? Isn’t that just a legend?” Red XIII asked. President Shinra looked oddly pleased that he’d asked that question.

 “Some say. Some don’t – who knows? Even so, it’s just too appealing not to pursue. It’s been said that the Promised Land is very fertile in Mako.”

 “Neo-Midgar,” Tifa said suddenly, understanding. “That’s what you were talking about.”

 “You overhear that somewhere?” The President chuckled. “Yes. The Promised Land, when we find it, is where Neo-Midgar will be built – with its abundant Mako. Shinra’s new glory.”

 “Quit dreaming!” Barret shouted. “You’ll just kill the planet more!”

 “Oh, I disagree. A man’s got to dream,” the President said smoothly. “Anyway, I’m done with you now. Take them away.”

 Then the Turks were all moving at once, the sunglasses-man grabbing Barret again. Barret tried to shake him off, almost succeeded, but –

 “Come on, this isn’t a show,” said the ponytail-man, who was grabbing Cloud’s shoulders. He pushed, the barrel of his gun on Cloud’s back. Cloud met Tifa and Aerith’s eyes as he was walking out; they were each being escorted by two guards, as well. He wondered what they were thinking. All that bravado, and now – back to Shinra prison (except he was pretty sure he’d never been to the Shinra prison).

 The building was big, and it was a long way from the 69th to the underground cells. Barret was to be taken to a separate cell, the ponytail-man explained. Then they left them in the dark, in a bare cell, together; sound of the door locking, then they were alone. No light. Somewhere far away, water was dripping in scanty drops.

 “So.”

 Aerith’s voice was disconnected, in the dark, something separate from material things, the metal walls, the water drops.

 “Aerith, I’m sorry –” Cloud started, straining his eyes in the dark.

 “You came for me,” Aerith cut him off. “Thank you.”

 Cloud hesitated. Tried to see through her voice, and failed. Aerith was – in the short time he’d known her – a mystery. Sometimes he had this notion, sometimes, that he knew her very well. That they had shared some secret (blue, yellow, white, insanely bright) together.

 “Well,” he finally said. “I _am_ your bodyguard.”

 “Bodyguard?” It was Tifa, somewhere to their left.

 “Oh… yeah, it was this… situation we had – earlier – when I fell in the church.” Cloud explained, a little flustered (for some reason), glad of the darkness that covered his face.

 “Some Turks came for me, and Cloud rescued me,” Aerith said. Her voice was light.

 “Yes, but now – look at us.” Cloud said. There was bitterness in his mouth. Silence was heavy. There were water dripping in some other floor, but they probably couldn’t hear it. Cloud wondered where Barret was. If they would see him again.

 “Aerith, can I ask you something?” Tifa said suddenly, breaking the silence. Cloud felt Aerith’s shadow shift, facing Tifa now.

 “Yes?”

 “Does the Promised Land… really exist?”

 Aerith hesitated a little before she answered. “I… don’t know. All I know is that the Cetra were born from the Planet, they speak with the Planet, and they unlock the Planet.”

 She sounded like she was reciting someone else’s words. Cloud wondered what the deal was, really, with her being an Ancient. President Shinra looked at her like an asset, she was a mission to the Turks, but to Cloud – she was just a girl.

 Aerith continued. “And then… the Cetra will return to the Promised Land. A land that promises supreme happiness.”

 “So what does that mean?” Tifa asked.

 “I don’t really know,” Aerith said, apologetically.

 “You speak with the Planet?” Cloud asked, just to fill the dark, wet silence. “What does that mean?”

 “It means… I can’t really explain. I hear these noises – full of people, full of… _things_. I can’t always make out what they are saying.”

 Hearing voices. Something stuck at Cloud’s throat. _I know what you mean_ , he almost said, but didn’t. Instead, he asked, “You hear it now?”

 “No. I only heard it at the Church.”

 “Well, then –”

 A _click_ , much too loud in the darkness of the cells. Cloud stopped speaking, his senses growing sharp. He waited for something to happen.

  Then there was a breeze tickling his cheeks. A creak, and he heard Red XIII sniff at the air.

 “What is –” Tifa started to whisper, just as a single light crept forward (poured forward, it seemed, suddenly).

 “The door’s open,” Cloud realized.

 “What?”

 Cloud ran to the door. The cell was a single, square metal room, and the door immediately opened to the lit corridor. Cloud held his breath, carefully looked out through the crack and found a guard lying dead, a pool of blood around his face-down head.

 “What is it?” Tifa asked, her voice cautious.

 “A guard’s dead,” he told them.

 “Who…” Aerith started to say, but Red XIII sprinted forward, past Cloud, slipping out through the open door. The door fell open, the fluorescent light blinding them all for a moment.

 “Later. First, we must make our escape,” Red XIII said. Cloud nodded.

 “Let’s find Barret first. He should be somewhere in this corridor too.”

 Cloud grabbed the keys from the guard’s belt. The keys were drenched with blood, but Cloud didn’t think about that. They walked down the corridor quickly, until they found a door that read _Warning – Dangerous Prisoners._ Cloud looked back at Tifa, who raised her eyebrows but nodded.

 There was a guard sitting slumped on a plastic chair outside that door, already dead. His arms hung loose by his side, dripping blood from the fingertips.

 The keys were slippery in his hands. He fumbled with them for a second; then the lock clicked open, revealing Barret, slumped against the wall.

 “How’d you get in?” Barret jumped up, surprised. “The hell’s goin’ on?”

 “Didn’t you hear anything? The guard outside is dead,” Tifa said.

 “As was the one in front of our cell,” Red XIII said. Barret shook his head.

 “Again – what the hell’s goin’ on?”

 “I don’t know,” Cloud said. “But let’s get out of here.”

 “I’ll lead the way,” Red XIII said, flurrying past before none of them could say anything.

 “Like the last time…” Cloud heard Barret mutter, but they followed Red XIII anyway. Strangely enough, they didn’t run into anyone along the way – and no alarm, either. Even if the guards had died before they could report anything, the security cameras should have picked them up by now. Being preoccupied by the eerie stillness of the building, it was a while before Cloud realized that they weren’t heading outside, but back the way they came.

 “Wait!” He said, stopping, and Tifa almost bumped into his back. “Where are we going?”

 Red XIII looked back at him. “I am following the trail.”

 “Why?”

 “No human could have done this.” Red XIII’s one eye was impassive, his voice (his strange accent, turning at the wrong places) ringing in the empty corridor. They were already halfway there. “I smell something…”

 “What? You smell somethin’ what?” Barret asked, irritated. “Hey, Cloud, should we be listenin’ to this – this –” Barret struggled, trying to find a word to describe Red XIII.

 “It smells like you,” Red XIII interrupted. “It’s familiar. Bloodier, but like you.”

 “Me?” Cloud asked, feeling a little numb. Blood was much too loud in his ears. Had always been, ever since he got the Mako; heard too much, saw too much. Always. But he had this feeling, now, this premonition. He turned to Tifa and Aerith, who were watching him with eyes that looked oddly similar. “You guys – go on ahead. I have to – I have to check this out.”

 “I’m not leaving you here,” Tifa said.

 Cloud looked at Aerith, who only shrugged. “I never listen to you, remember?”

 “That’s true,” Cloud said, feeling (traitorously enough) relieved.

 “Hey, ain’t you gonna ask _my_ opinion?” Barret complained.

 “Well, Barret, if you wanna go…”

 “Who said anythin’ about goin’? C’mon, better get this done, then.”

 Red XIII turned around without saying anything, and started leaping up the stairs.

-

 The chase ended, finally, in front of the President’s office. Cloud stopped and stared at the door. There was a blood path leading out from the inside – or maybe leading into it. Everybody was breathing heavily from the long run up the stairs (the elevators had been out of order), but Cloud’s head felt ragged, blood twisted, and now he thought he smelled it to.

 Like me. Bloodier, but like me.

 He hardly felt himself walking to the door, and then his hand was turning the knob. The door swung open.

 The President was staring at him, slumped against his chair.

 Or, rather, the former President Shinra (he had never learned his first name); he was impaled by a long sword, eyes open and staring, a thin line of red trickling down his chin.

 “He’s dead,” Barret said. Cloud hadn’t heard him come in. “President Shinra is… dead?”

 But that wasn’t it. Cloud stared, transfixed, at the long line of silver that had impaled the President to the desk, holding him upright. He knew that sword. He knew – his chest ached.

 “Whose sword is this? It’s so long,” Tifa said, her voice barely above a whisper. It was terribly quiet in here, save for the occasional drops of blood.

 He knew that sword.

 “Sephiroth’s.”

 Tifa turned to him, surprised. “Sephiroth is alive?”

 “Looks like it,” Cloud heard himself say. His voice felt barely connected to his body, floating in the blood-thick air somewhere. “Only Sephiroth would – could – use that sword.”

 “Why would he kill the President?” Tifa asked.

 “He had his reasons.”

 Cloud took a step back, suddenly dizzy. Sick. His chest ached.

 “Hey, who cares who did it and why? This is the end of Shinra!” Barret boomed, voice loud and excited. Tifa was about to say something to that, when a hiccup interrupted them. Cloud turned around quickly. Apparently, a man had been sitting there beside the door all along. His suit was spattered with blood, but he looked unharmed otherwise. He could have been a twin brother of the President; and Cloud was confused for a moment, before he remembered the man’s face as one of the Shinra Executives. Palmer. He was in the news a lot. It looked like he had been knocked out and just woke up.

 “P –please, don’t kill me!”

 “What happened?” Cloud took a step. Palmer shrank, face distorting.

 “Se… Sephiroth. Sephiroth was here.”

 “Did you see him? Did you see Sephiroth?”

 He still had hope, in some small corner of his mind, that the whole thing was just a mistake – somehow – and Sephiroth was dead, like Cloud remembered him being. Only, Palmer was nodding vigorously.

 “Y, yes! I saw him. I saw him with my own eyes!”

 “Are you sure it was Sephiroth?”

 “I know, I saw! And I heard… his voice, too. He was saying something about not, not letting us have the Promised Land, or something.” Palmer stuttered. He took a hand to his face, smearing blood like war paint. Cloud watched, feeling distant, only the ache in his chest was alive.

 “Then what?” Tifa frowned. “Does that mean that the Promised Land really exists, and Sephiroth is here to save it from Shinra?”

 “Huh? So he’s a good guy, then?” Barret sounded confused.

 “No,” Cloud said. He shook his head. “No, it’s not that… simple. I know – knew – him. Sephiroth’s mission is something else.”

 Just then, there was a deafening sound; the wall-windows shattered in a thousand pieces; one shard slit Cloud’s bare arm, drawing a thin line of blood, but he barely noticed the pain. He saw, in the corner of his eyes, that Aerith, Tifa and Red XIII had taken cover behind the desk. Barret had taken the blunt of the explosion but had his gun-arm protecting his face.

 A Shinra helicopter was floating in front of the broken window. Palmer shot past him, running towards the helicopter before none of them could say anything. Someone held out a hand from the inside.

 “Rufus!” Barret shouted, suddenly; even his booming voice was almost drowned out by the noisy stutter of the helicopter. “I forgot about him, dammit!”

 “Rufus Shinra. The President’s son.” Tifa said. “I guess – he’s the new President now –”

 Cloud wasn’t really listening. He stood, against the wind, a gray sky the backdrop of the roaring helicopter. He thought he saw the ponytail-man inside. It was too dark to make out the people clearly.

 A buzz, and someone – Rufus Shinra, presumably – was talking through the speaker. Cloud couldn’t see his face, just a shadowed outline of someone in the front seat.

 “Who are you?” The voice said. “Are you with Sephiroth?”

 “No,” Cloud said. “I’m trying – I’m going to stop him.”

 “Well, then. Maybe we’ll be friends,” Rufus called, his voice flat and mechanic. Cloud couldn’t tell if he was being serious or not. Not that it mattered –

 “As if I’d ever mix with a _schemin’, soulless_ –” Barret yelled from behind Cloud.

 “And who is this?”

 “My name’s Barret Wallace and you better remember it! I – _we’re_ AVALANCHE!”

 “Ah. AVALANCHE.” Rufus’s voice turned a little sour. “Not one of father’s greatest achievements, that Sector 7 business.”

 “I won’t let you have the Promised Land,” Cloud said. _Nor Sephiroth_.

 “Hm. Then maybe our paths will cross again.”

 Before anyone could say anything else, the helicopter was taking off. A fresh rush of wind forced Cloud to take a step back.

 “So,” Tifa said in the aftermath, in the middle of broken glass and spatters of blood, with the dead President Shinra staring through dead eyes. “What now?”

 “Did you – did you mean what you said about stopping Sephiroth?” Aerith asked. Strands of hair had fallen out from her braided ponytail in the mess. Cloud looked away; stared at the sword still sticking out from President Shinra.

 “I don’t know,” he finally said. “Looks like this is gonna get complicated.”

 “I’ll say.” Barret said, scratching his head. “Finally got rid of President Shinra only to be replaced by a younger, sleeker 2.0…”

 “Well,” Tifa said, picking her way through the mess to the door. “Whatever you decide, we’ll be here to help.”

 “Who’s _we_?” Barret asked, skeptically.


	9. Green Fire

_“You’re running away but the shadow is your own, your own_

_One day when it finds you, take it to heart, you can’t run away_

_When you know that the tall, tall shadow_

_The tall, tall shadow is yours.”_

From _Tall, Tall Shadow_ by _Basia Bulat_

-

With the building being deserted, the escape wasn’t all that difficult. They were down at the slums before the sun set completely, in a deserted park (broken, like everything else in the slums was). The air was heavy and wet, like it was about to rain.

“So – we got Aerith back.” Barret said.

“Thank you, everyone,” Aerith said. “For coming to help me.”

“Yes, my thanks, too.” Red XIII added.

“What’s going to happen now?” Tifa directed the question at Cloud. Everybody was looking at him now. Cloud hesitated, smelled the rain and then it was hard not to remember.

“Sephiroth is alive,” he started, slowly. “And I have to – I have a score to settle.”

“Well, AVALANCHE ain’t dead,” Barret said, his voice fierce. “An’ I still gotta save the Planet, for Jessie an’ Biggs an’ Wedge.”

“So I guess it means goodbye.” Cloud said.

Barret looked at him strangely. “Who said anythin’ about any goodbye? I’m goin’ with you.”

“You…”

“Me too. I have to find out some things about… the Ancients,” Aerith said. “And I’m not going to wait this time.”

Cloud wanted to ask what she meant, but then Red XIII was speaking, “I’m going back to my hometown. I’ll go with you as far as that.”

And all Tifa said was; “I guess that’s goodbye, Midgar.”

“I have to tell you, though, Sephiroth is dangerous.”

“We know, Cloud,” said Tifa. “But like I said, we’ll be here to help you.” And Cloud didn’t have anything more to say; he looked at them all, wondering if they really knew.

“Wait, we need a group leader for our journey,” Barret said. “’Course only me could be the leader, ya know, since I’m already –”

“It would have to be Cloud,” Aerith said.

“Me?” Cloud looked back at her, and at Tifa, who started to laugh at Barret’s expression.

“Sorry, Mr. Barret,” Aerith bit her lips (fighting back a smile).

Barret looked scandalized. “… Who you callin’ Mr. Barret?” He looked round at them, then at Cloud. “Okay, fine. _Fine_. Since yer the Sephiroth expert.”

“I don’t want…” Cloud started, but it wasn’t like anyone listened to him, anyway. He didn’t know why he bothered. Raindrops started to fall, on his cheeks and arms. Cloud looked up; a slight space of sky between the plates, gray and indistinguishable now from the metal.

“It’s getting late, anyway,” he said. “We might as well go to Kalm and find an inn.”

“Whatever you say, leader,” Red XIII said, and Cloud wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic or not, but Aerith started to laugh and Barret was glaring at him (like it’d been _Cloud’s_ choice), and Cloud just had to shrug, and lead the way out of Midgar.

A few steps into the slums, the rain stopped; the plate, a giant umbrella.

-

 There was no plate above the small village of Kalm, which was just outside Midgar. The air was less denser, Cloud thought, and water fell freely from the sky. As soon as they checked into an inn, it started to pour and soon the whole village was full of rain sounds, gray, clean.

 And now Cloud sat in one of the two rooms they’d gotten, faced with a question; he didn’t know where to begin.

 He looked out the small, dirty window. The raindrops blurred everything outside, hazy outlines. He watched drops form and slide down, ceaselessly; it’d been raining that day, too. Maybe he could start there.

 “So?” Barret said, impatient. “Let’s hear your story. C’mon.”

 “Do I…”

 “Yes, you have to, Cloud,” said Aerith, sternly. “If we’re going to fight together.”

 Cloud wondered if anyone was going to let him finish his sentences. “Alright,” he sighed. “I guess I’ll start at the beginning, then.”

 “Hm, we’re listening.”

 “… I used to want to be like Sephiroth. That’s why I joined SOLDIER. And after working with Sephiroth on several missions, we became… friends.”

 “Friends?” Barret echoed, scrunching up his face. “You were _friends_ with this crazy, murderin’…”

 “He wasn’t,” Cloud said quickly. “He wasn’t, back then.” And he had really believed. “Maybe we weren’t quite _friends_ , because he was older than me and never talked about himself, but we were – comrades, I guess. We trusted each other. Until –”

 “Until?” Aerith asked, when Cloud didn’t go on.

 Cloud’s mind blurred, the memory oddly clear, like he was there now. On that day. It’d been raining hard then, too.

  _That was five years ago, I was sixteen,_ he heard himself say.

 It was one of those things again; his memory, like a quilted sheet, had jarred edges that didn’t quite match, had cloths that stood out too vividly. And he was there. It was –

 “– Raining hard. How’re you doing?”

 Cloud nudged a SOLDIER sitting next to him. They were sitting in the back of a truck, on their way to another mission. A scanty tent was covering their heads, but occasional raindrops struck their foreheads every now and then. The SOLDIER shrugged.

 “I’m alright.” But he looked a little green, Cloud noted.

 “I’ve never had motion sickness. You sure you’re okay?” The SOLDIER nodded. Cloud then turned to Sephiroth, who was sitting at the opposite end of the small truck. “How about you, you alright?”

 Sephiroth gave him an exasperated look. “Settle down, you’re just like a little kid.”

 Cloud wanted to say that he couldn’t care less what he _thought_ , and mean it, but he couldn’t. Everyone was going on about how young he was (but he was sixteen already), treating him like a child, and it had become a sensitive spot.

 “You going to brief us about this mission?” Cloud asked instead. He would rather die than bring this – matter – to Sephiroth.

 “Yes, I was about to,” Sephiroth said. He flipped through the file he was holding. “This isn’t any typical mission.”

 “Good,” Cloud said, before he could stop himself. For a second their eyes met; Cloud thought it was a mixture of irritation and curiosity in Sephiroth’s green eyes, but it was gone quickly and Sephiroth was frowning now.

 “Why do you say that?”

 “… It’s just, the war ended, and there isn’t a lot of chance to –” Be a hero. _Be like you._ “– Prove myself.”

 Sephiroth was giving him an odd look, and Cloud cleared his throat, belatedly self-conscious.

 “So, anyway, the mission?”

 Sephiroth raised his eyebrows, but he _did_ turn back to the papers, and Cloud sighed in relief.

 “Our mission is to investigate an old Mako reactor. There have been reports of it malfunctioning, and producing – brutal creatures. We will locate the problem and neutralize it.”

 “Brutal creatures? Where?” Cloud frowned. Something, maybe a premonition, was making his heart beat a little faster.

 “The Mako reactor at Nibelheim.”

 “Nibelheim?” Cloud repeated, a little dazed, a little uncertain – and terribly anxious, though he didn’t know what for.

 “Is there a problem?”

 “No – just, that’s where I’m from.”

 “Hm. Hometown.” Sephiroth had the strangest expression on his face. If Cloud didn’t know better, he would’ve maybe said he was smiling. Cloud frowned, opened his mouth to say something to the effect of _so your facial muscles work just fine, after all,_ when the SOLDIER who was driving the truck interrupted, his voice urgent.

 “Sir! Something – strange – just crashed into our truck! It’s coming back –”

 “That would be our monster.”

 Then Sephiroth was getting up in one fluid motion. Cloud hastily made to stand up, but he stumbled over his untied shoelaces, and before he’d even taken a single step, everything was over. Cloud looked up at the sharp slashing sound and the short cry of the monster, and Sephiroth was standing there, in the pouring rain, red blood a fine mist, looking at Cloud with unreadable eyes.

 And those eyes, that green, had scared Cloud then; even though he couldn’t have guessed what was going to happen next, what Sephiroth would become. All these years later, remembering the first glimpse of – what was it, madness, fury, something raw – he shivered.

 “Sephiroth’s strength is unreal,” he told Barret, Tifa, Aerith and Red XIII, who’d been quiet, listening to his story. “He’s far stronger in reality than any story you might have heard about him.”

 “That ain’t good,” Barret muttered.

 “So… where do you come in?” Aerith asked.

 “Me? Sephiroth took care of things so fast… I was just staring at him. And then, we reached Nibelheim.” He glanced at Tifa. She didn’t meet his eyes, lost in some other thought.

  _Welcome to Nibelheim._ Cloud remembered seeing the familiar battered sign at the entrance of their village. It had seemed to be falling apart since forever, but never quite managing to be broken, hanging askew. One of the things he hated about the town. There had been no one around when they arrived at the town’s gate, soaked through and through by the rain.

 Which was hardly a surprise, Cloud thought, as he ruffled his hair, trying to dry it. The rain had stopped a few hours ago, but the smell still lingered. Tangled in the dirt, and came at him like a physical force; the country smell was something he was familiar with.

 “How does it feel? It’s your first time back home after you joined, isn’t it?” Sephiroth asked. Cloud was a little surprised that Sephiroth would know – or _care_.

 “I’m not really sure,” Cloud said, shrugging. So much had happened after he left, and he hadn’t been planning to come back like this. Or to come back at all.

 They headed to a nearby inn; the only inn in the town, actually. Cloud wore his helmet and managed not to get noticed by anyone. They wouldn’t be very happy to see him back, anyway – except for Tifa, probably, if she hadn’t forgotten him already. But her house was miles away from here.

 “We leave for the reactor at dawn. Make sure you get some sleep. And… oh, that’s right. You may visit your family and friends,” Sephiroth said to Cloud.

 “Won’t take long,” Cloud told him. He didn’t have a lot of places to go.

 But he _did_ go to visit his mother, who was living alone atop a hill, a little ways out of the village; they had been living in that tiny house ever since Cloud could remember, and after he left, his mother would have been alone, and that sends a pang of guilt to his mind.

 He had to take a steadying breath before gathering up the courage to knock at the door. It was both familiar and very, very foreign, his own house that he’d lived for fourteen years. And he had been gone for only two years.

 “ _Yes_ , I’m coming!” His mother called from inside. There was the sound of someone stumbling over something. Cloud winced; that had to hurt. But it was good to see (hear) that his mother hadn’t changed.

 “Yes, who’s… Oh, God, Cloud!”

 There was a flurry of blond hair, which was a shade darker than Cloud’s, and then his mother threw herself over Cloud. Cloud noted with a surprise that he now had to look down on her. Just two years; but it felt longer.

 “Welcome home, Cloud,” she kissed his cheek. She had to stand on tiptoes to do it. Cloud thought it was weird, but if she noticed it, she didn’t show.

 “Hi, mom.” Cloud couldn’t help but smile. He couldn’t say he’d missed the town, but this – mom pulled Cloud inside the house, fussing over everything like she’d always done.

 “Come here, come here, let me have a look at you!”

 There was an awkward moment in which she made him stand against the wall and then ran to the other side of the room to inspect him up and down. Her toes hit a frying pan that was arbitrarily lying on the floor on the way. She didn’t seem to notice.

 “You look so handsome! So is this the SOLDIER uniform?”

 Cloud didn’t remember what he said to that, exactly; the next memory had him tracing the patterns of the bed cover with his finger. Quilted, just like his memory; or maybe it was the other way around. His mother was leaning against the doorframe, with a smile on her face. Something was cooking at her back, packing the house with the smell.

 “My, how you’ve grown. I’ll be the girls never leave you alone.”

 Cloud almost laughed at that. “Not really.”

 “I’m worried about you. There’s a lot of temptation in the city… I’d feel better if you just settled down and had a nice girlfriend, or something.”

 “… I’m alright.”

 “I’m thinking someone who’s a little older than you. A nice, mature girl, who can take care of you – are you eating right?”

 “Yeah. The company takes care of me.” Cloud tried to smile, but his mother still looked worried.

 “I worry, Cloud…”

  _Cloud? … You know… … Is that right?... I will always be your mother…_

 Something strange was happening; he’d reached the edge again, the edge of the cloth, sewn up with needles, not quite right. Came in pieces.

 “What’s wrong?” Barret asked, when Cloud abruptly stopped talking. Cloud shook his head, unable to explain. Holes – all he had were his mother’s occasional responses, her light blue eyes and smiles.

 “I can’t remember much else,” Cloud said. “It’s not important, anyway, what we talked about.”

 “Are you okay, Cloud?” Aerith asked, frowning. Cloud thought, watching her green eyes flicker, how nice it would be to be so – unbroken. He yearned for that wholeness, something he thought Aerith must have. He tore his eyes away, but he felt a little calmer now.

 “It’s nothing. And then I – I went to your house too, Tifa, but you weren’t there.”

 “I didn’t know that,” Tifa said, her expression strange; conflicted, but Cloud didn’t know why.

 “Yeah, well, I went back to the inn.”

 And Cloud had – unfortunately – forgotten his helmet back at his mother’s house, which meant that people could now recognize him.

 Which someone did, Mr. Jose, the innkeeper.

 “You’re with Shinra? Welcome… Oh, it’s you, Cloud! I… didn’t recognize you.” Mr. Jose stared, longer than Cloud was comfortable with. Cloud cleared his throat.

 “So… um, what do you need, Cloud?” It was Mrs. Jose, trying to be kind. Cloud wished they would just – act normal, drop the act, talk to him like they’d done before. Or _hadn’t_ done, he supposed, because people had avoided talking to him back then, if they could help it.

 “Nothing much, I’m just waiting for – uh, what’s going on in the town?” Cloud said, feeling awkward. Mr. Jose busied himself with wiping the already-clean counter.

 “Well, a lot of monsters have been appearing – new kinds – for the last twelve months,” Mrs. Jose said. “I’m guessing that’s what brought you Shinra here.”

 “Yeah. It is.”

 Cloud expected the conversation to end there, but to his surprise, Mrs. Jose kept talking. She must have been really worried, Cloud thought.

 “It was okay when they were still building the reactor… but once it was completed, it’s been bad. Within a few months all the trees near the reactor died.”

 And Cloud tried very hard not to see – hear – the pleading in Mrs. Jose’s voice, but it was as plain as day. It made him uncomfortable, a little angry, and Cloud excused himself hastily to go look for Sephiroth.

 He found Sephiroth in his room, staring out the window with his back turned to Cloud.

 “What are you looking at?” Cloud asked, stepping closer. There was nothing special about the view, as far as he could see.

 “This scenery. I feel like I have seen it before.”

 “How would… you know my hometown, General?”

 Sephiroth didn’t answer, but Cloud had just shrugged it off, then. It wasn’t unusual for Sephiroth to act strange sometimes.

 What had been _really_ strange, after all, was seeing Tifa the next morning. They were to meet their guide into the Nibel mountains (Cloud didn’t think they needed one, but Sephiroth was all about proper orders of business), and Tifa had walked into the inn’s hall, and the reality of it all (of it really happening, striking him raw) was just a little daunting.

 “Cloud?”

 Tifa’s eyes went wide. Cloud recognized her smile, but she was just so – different. It had only been two years, but everything seemed to have changed. She’d grown taller; a little sharper, too.

 “Tifa, you’re the guide?”

 “That’s right. I just happen to be the best guide in the town.”

 “But there are monsters, and…” Cloud faltered. Tifa gave him a wide grin that was a little on the wicked side.

 “I’ve been training, Cloud.”

 “Training?”

 “There wouldn’t be a problem if you protect her,” Sephiroth said, smoothly cutting in. He looked a little amused, but mostly impatient. “Let’s go.”

 “Wait, excuse me, General!” Someone interrupted them. “I’m a local journalist. Please let me take a photo of you with your group there!”

 Sephiroth sighed; the cameraman, who Cloud didn’t recognize, flinched, but that didn’t stop him from fussing with their positions and finally taking an awkward picture.

 “Wait…” The cameraman said suddenly, squinting his eyes. Sephiroth sighed again.

 And, on second thought, Cloud realized that he _did_ recognize the man, after all. Mr. Holland: his son, James, had been in Cloud’s class.

 “Are you… Cloud Strife?”

 “I am, Mr. Holland,” Cloud said.

 “Really? Gosh, Cloud. You’ve grown up to be a nice-looking lad.” Mr. Holland said, staring at him like he’d come back from the dead, instead of Midgar. Cloud squirmed under his scrutiny. Thankfully, Sephiroth (whose patience had reached a limit, which wasn’t very high to begin with) rescued him.

 “If that’s all, we need to get started now.”

 “Oh, alright. Thank you, General. I’ll give each of you a copy when I get it developed.”

 “That’s fine.” He looked at Tifa then, and she led them out of the inn to the Nibel mountain.

 The road was rougher than Cloud remembered, but he picked up the pace quickly. He noted, with some secret pride, that some of the other SOLDIERS were having a harder time climbing the rocky mountain.

 “It gets easier past –” Tifa, who’d been climbing ahead, stopped abruptly. “Wait, the bridge!”

 Tifa was hardly done yelling when the bridge they were walking on started to rumble and shake dangerously.

 “It’s too late! Everybody just jump!” He heard Tifa shout, and looked down at the ominous, dark ravine below. _Jump_?

 But the bridge was shaking, there was no choice anyway, and Cloud jumped.

 “Everyone seems to be alright,” Sephiroth’s voice was disconnected in the dark, echoing off the ravine walls. Apparently, the ravine had looked more dangerous than it really was.

 “Can we go back to where we were?” Sephiroth asked Tifa, the both of them dark silhouettes.

 “No, but we don’t need to. These caves are connected.”

 Then they walked in silence, stumbling through the darkness. There were greenish lights here and there, Mako glowing from within the rocks and ground. It didn’t take long until they reached the reactor.

 “Tifa, you wait here,” Cloud said.

 “But…”

 “Only authorized people are allowed in,” Sephiroth said, with finality. “This place is full of Shinra’s industrial secrets.”

 Tifa shrugged at that, and stepped aside – to Cloud’s surprise, because he remembered how stubborn she’d been as a little child.

 The inside of the reactor was larger than Cloud had imagined. Thick wires and cords stuck out from the walls, from the floor, and Cloud had to take his steps carefully, so he didn’t accidentally step on the wrong thing and cut the electricity, or something.

 “Cloud, close the valve,” said Sephiroth, without looking at him. He seemed distracted by something; Cloud went and closed the valve without saying anything.

 Sephiroth was muttering to himself now, or so Cloud assumed. His voice had always been low, but amidst the humming and whirling of the machines, it was hard to tell apart the words.

 “This is a system that condenses and freezes the Mako energy,” he said suddenly, clearly, and Cloud startled. “Now – what does Mako energy become when it further condensed?”

 “It becomes a Materia,” Cloud answered. Sephiroth nodded, absently.

 “Yes. Normally. But Hojo put something else in it… Take a look. Look through the window.”

 Cloud did; a little hesitantly, because even if Sephiroth’s face was impassive and hard to read, he had a feeling that he was going to regret this. And he did – Cloud looked back at Sephiroth, face distorting.

 “Wh – what is this?”

 Sephiroth didn’t answer straight away. “Typical SOLDIERS are humans that have been showered with Mako. You are different from the others – civilians – but still humans.”

 “But then – what are _they_?”

 “They’ve been exposed to a higher degree of Mako, far more than you.”

 “Is this some kind of a… monster?” Cloud was almost afraid to ask, more because of how Sephiroth looked than anything else. There was a strange glimmer in his eyes, absorbing and not reflecting the green light of the Mako.

 “Exactly,” Sephiroth said. “And it’s Hojo that produced these… monsters. Mutated… organisms produced by Mako energy.”

  _Mutated organisms produced by Mako energy._ Cloud repeated it in his head. His mind spun in violent green.

 And then, just like that – like some switch being turned on – everything changed.

 He heard a soft click of tongue beside him. Then a voice: the low, grave voice that Cloud thought he knew well, that he would’ve – perhaps – died for, if asked, once upon a time. It was different, though, turned upside down and unrecognizable.

 “No. No, was I?”

 Sephiroth’s voice was barely a whisper. Cloud didn’t know what he was talking about, but couldn’t breathe enough to ask. He knew, in that single moment, that he was more afraid of his – friend – standing right in front of him than he had been (and would be) scared of anything else in his life.

 “Was I created this way too?”

 “Sephiroth?” Cloud finally choked. He found that he’d taken a step back without meaning to. Suddenly, the huge reactor wasn’t so huge anymore. There was almost no breathing room. Sephiroth turned to him, green eyes blazing with (madness, fury, something raw) the intensity of his stare.   
 “Tell me, Cloud. Was I?”

 Cloud was overwhelmed again, but it wasn’t like the last time; he hadn’t reached an edge. It was the dead center of the flame, his eyes too close to the fire to see anything else. Strange, though, that he felt so overwhelmed and detached at the same time. Strange that he couldn’t remember what he felt at the time; what he felt now was tainted by the knowledge of the after-events.

 “We returned to Nibelheim,” he heard himself speak. “Sephiroth confined himself at the inn. He didn’t even talk to me.”

 “Then – all of a sudden – he disappeared, right?” Tifa said. Cloud nodded. She would remember; the whole town was turned upside down, all the SOLDIERS looking for the missing General. Bursting into houses, running through streets.

 They found him, finally, in the biggest building in Nibelheim. Strangely enough, it had been the last place they checked. The villagers used to call it the Shinra Mansion.

 Cloud remembered walking up the gate, the metal rusted brown and stiff. The big double door that had never been locked; but no one would go inside, because it was the kind of place that Cloud thought even ghosts would avoid.

 He took a deep breath, pushed open the door.

 And then – that was when the nightmare really began, wasn’t it?

 “… An organism that was apparently dead was found in a two thousand year-old geological stratum. Professor Gast named that organism Jenova…”

 “Sephiroth!”

 His voice didn’t reach Sephiroth.

 “Jenova confirmed to be an Ancient. … Jenova Project approved. The use of Mako Reactor One approved…”

 Sephiroth closed the journal he’d been reading from and let it drop on the carpet. Dust flew in swirls around the book.

 “My mother’s name is Jenova. Jenova Project… Is this just a coincidence? Professor Gast… why didn’t you tell me anything? Why did you die?” He kept muttering. A short laugh, but his face was distorted. Cloud didn’t know what to do, how to save him – because it was clear, whatever this was, he needed to be saved. Or else – it wouldn’t just be him, drowning.

 “Sephiroth!”

 Sephiroth’s head turned and he faced Cloud.

 “Who is this? A traitor.”

 “What? A traitor?” Cloud asked, wondering if it wouldn’t be wise just to run away right now and never look back. But he knew that he couldn’t, even though he wanted to.

 “You. _You_ are a traitor, and you don’t even know it. I’ll tell you. Cetra was an itinerant race.” Sephiroth took a step closer, Cloud took a step back. “They would migrate, settle a planet, and then move on… At the end of their harsh journey, they would find the Promised Land and supreme happiness. Except… there were people who took what the Cetra and the planet made, without giving anything back in return. Those were your ancestors.”

 “My ancestors?”

 “Long ago, disaster struck this planet. Your ancestors escaped. They survived, because they went into hiding This planet was saved by sacrificing the Cetra.”

 “What does that have to do with you?” Cloud was confused, desperate; he kept searching for a way for this to end, found none.

 “Don’t you get it?” Sephiroth shook his head. “An Ancient named Jenova as found in the geological stratum of two thousand years ago. The Jenova Project. The Jenova Project’s objective was to produce people with the powers of the Ancients – no, the Cetra – I am the one that was produced.”

 “Produced? Wh – what do you mean?”

 “Out of my way,” Sephiroth walked past him, and even though he wasn’t walking that fast, Cloud couldn’t stop him. “I am going to see my mother.”

 Sephiroth had a twisted smile on his lips. _He’s gone mad_ – Cloud realized, a force in his chest. He couldn’t move. There was a vague feeling of desperation, detached from his body; clutching at his responsibility, to put an end to – he made himself move, and follow Sephiroth.

 And he stopped, just outside the mansion, stared at the town that was dying.

 He didn’t think he’d stood in shock for a very long time, but apparently it was enough time for Sephiroth to start, take out the fire in his eyes and burn everything, everybody, indiscriminately. _Traitors_ , Cloud heard him say.

 The flames were everywhere. It was hotter inside his skin than outside, though, scalding his skin and tearing out muscles. All he saw was red… Soaked in boiling blood, everywhere, not even a scream – had everyone died already?

 He didn’t remember much after that. It was odd; everything up until that point had been clear, like he was back there watching the world burn. It was like the memory of his visit to his mother. Pieces, holes, empty spaces: Cloud saw, fleetingly, Tifa crying, Mr. Holland’s face burnt, peeled, and Sephiroth staring up at Jenova.

 Jenova had been inside a glass cage that was full of Mako. Cloud also saw Tifa grabbing a sword, shouting and running at Sephiroth. Sephiroth didn’t even look back when he slashed his sword behind his back, slicing Tifa and blood spilled, less dramatically than Cloud was expecting, and then _he_ was running.

 Which was stupid, because he didn’t have a sword. Except, somehow, he saw himself grabbing the hilt of his buster sword. He thought someone might have handed it to him, but no – there was no one else there, inside the Reactor, and who could’ve had his sword?

 Didn’t matter, anyway, because when he was running at Sephiroth, all he smelled was the fire and he hadn’t expected to live. But he would take down Sephiroth with him.

 “So what happened to Sephiroth?” Aerith asked. For a minute, Cloud thought that was only half the question – but then again, maybe not, because wasn’t he sitting here in front of her, alive? Cloud shook his head. He was getting confused again.

 “I don’t… really remember. I thought I killed him, but obviously not.”

 Aerith looked like she wanted to argue that, but Tifa interrupted.

 “Official reports say that Sephiroth is dead. I read it in the newspaper.”

 “Shinra owns the paper. You can’t rely on that sorta information.” Barret said.

 “So what really happened?” Red XIII asked.

 “I don’t know. And that’s what I want to find out.”

 There was a short silence. Then Barret sighed, loudly, filling up the whole room. Cloud had forgotten about the rain, but it was in the room too, damp air and heavy smell.

 “Damn, don’t none of this make sense,” Barret complained.

 “Maybe we should get some rest for tonight,” Aerith finally suggested, to which Tifa nodded wearily.

 “Yes, it’s been a – long day.”

 Cloud nodded, too. Only this morning, he’d fallen into Aerith’s church, and that felt like such a long time ago. He was suddenly very tired. Everything had changed so much in a single day; President Shinra was dead, Sephiroth was alive, and he had a feeling that his nightmares weren’t over yet. Waking dreams. He had empty places in his head and mismatched edges. There was so much that he had to know.

 But for now, like Aerith said, he would get some rest. Cloud wondered if she was as confused as he was, if she was lying awake in the room next door staring at the ceiling, the rain casting shadows on it.

 At least she wouldn’t have to listen to Barret’s snoring, he thought, as he lay on his side and tried to block out the noise.


	10. Yuffie

 It wasn’t hard to find Sephiroth’s trail.

 After asking around for a little bit the next morning, they found someone who claimed to have seen a man with a long sword and long silver hair pass through the outskirts of the village. They followed the trail to the marshes outside of Kalm, and found something else.

 “Did Sephiroth…” Aerith didn’t finish her sentence; her eyes were fixed ahead, slightly disgusted. Cloud looked back at the giant snake impaled on a dead tree by a thick branch. The snake was three times wider than him, its beady eyes still open, as if in shock. No sign of blood anywhere, or anything else, really, but Cloud knew; “Yes,” he said. “This was Sephiroth.”

 “This Sephiroth guy’s pretty strong, I’d say,” Barret said.

 “What is this – a warning?” Tifa frowned, gauging the size of the snake with her eyes.

 “Yeah, or maybe it was tryin’ to eat the guy,” Barret shrugged. “Anyway, that means we’re on the right track, right?”

 “Yeah,” Cloud said. They kept walking.

-

 Thirty minutes into walking, they came across an abandoned mine. A silvery white light was emanating from the raw materials in the cave, tinted at the edges by blue. Blue, not green, and for that alone, Cloud stared at the light in fascination.

 “It’s a Mythril Mine,” Barret said. “Used to be a lotta these, before Mako came in.”

 Cloud thought there was something in Barret’s eyes that was close to – regret – but when he looked again, it was gone. Barret kicked an old, broken hammer to the side. The darkness of the mine swallowed the noise as it fell over the edge and tumbled down.

 But apparently there was someone in the cave, after all, and the noise had them calling, “Just a second!”

 Cloud squinted his eyes at the dark mouth of the cave to see who it was. But then there was someone at their backs, and he wheeled around quickly to find a Turk they had seen before at the Shinra Building, the one with the sunglasses.

 “You’re…” Tifa took a step forward, so that she was standing between the Turk and Aerith.

 “You know who I am?” The Turk asked, adjusting his sunglasses.

 “Not interested,” Cloud said. The man seemed to be frowning, although it was difficult to tell with only the dim bluish lights from the abandoned Mythril.

 “I’m –” The man was interrupted by someone else to came scampering out of the cave; another Turk, judging by the uniform, a woman with a short, platinum blond hair.

 “It’s alright, Rude! I’ll tell them who we are!” She declared, skidding to a halt in front of Rude.

 “Elena,” Rude greeted, sounding relieved.

The girl, Elena, wheeled around to face them now. It was dizzying how fast she moved, blond flashes in the dim light of the cave.

 “I’m Elena, the newest member of the Turks.”

 “We heard,” Barret said, narrowing his eyes. “Whaddya want?”

 “Wait, listen first! Reno sends his regards, and he told me tell you that you lot can all go to hell and drown in chocobo muck. His exact words.”

 “Okay…?” Barret looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or be insulted.

 “Although… because of that, I got promoted to the Turks,” Elena mused. Rude cleared his throat. “But anyway! Our job is to locate Sephiroth. And to try and stop you every step of the way. Wait, no, it’s the other way around. You’re the ones that are – will be – getting in our way.”

 Cloud blinked. She talked fast, and his head was spinning. Not that it mattered much, whatever the Turks decided to do; he was about to ignore her and move on, when a third Turk apparently appeared out of nowhere and stood beside Rude. It was that ponytail-man who Cloud had thought must be the head of the Turks. And now it seemed that he’d been right.

 “Elena, you talk too much,” the man said.

 “Tseng – I mean, sir! I’m so sorry.” Elena said sheepishly.

 Tseng turned his eyes to Cloud, analyzing him, assessing him. Cloud stared back. It was hard to read his face though, flat and smooth like a mask. The strange thing was, Cloud felt like he’d known this man – Tseng – much longer than he actually had. Something about his black eyes. But he is probably remembering someone else from some other time.

 “No need to tell them about our orders,” Tseng said, finally turning away. “Now go on. Don’t forget to file the reports.”

 “Oh, right! I forg – I mean, Rude and I will go on ahead to Junon Harbor!” Elena said, and Tseng sighed.

 Junon Harbor. So that was where Sephiroth was heading. Cloud kept his face blank. Tseng eyed him distrustfully but didn’t say anything.

 “Oh!” Elena clapped her hands over her mouth, when she realized what she’d done. “Sir, I’m so sorry!”

 “Just – go. Don’t let Sephiroth get away,” Tseng said.

 Rude and Elena soon disappeared through the path behind the cave, but Tseng remained. Cloud wasn’t sure what to do; should they just go? But Tseng looked like he wanted something else, waiting for the other two to leave.

 When the forest finally consumed their footsteps, Tseng turned back to them, but he was looking at Aerith.

 “Aerith, long time no see,” he said. Cloud thought he might be smiling, a tiny upturn of mouth. Aerith’s smile, on the other hand, was wide and warm.

 “You too, Tseng.”

 “Wait, you two know each other?” Tifa asked, confused.

 “A little,” Aerith said. Before she could explain, though, Tseng was speaking again; he spoke only to Aerith, like the rest of them weren’t standing there at all.

 “Looks like you got away from Shinra for a while, now that Sephiroth’s reappeared. Rufus will be concentrating on him for the time being.”

 “So what are you saying?” Aerith’s voice was light, breezy. “That I should be grateful to Sephiroth?”

 Tseng flinched. Cloud wanted to see her face; it was hard to tell from her voice alone whether she is being serious or not.

“No,” Tseng finally said. “Well, I won’t be seeing too much of you, so take care.”

 “Strange, hearing that from you.”

 “Times change.”

 With that, he turned and left the way Elena and Rude had. Cloud wondered what their mission was here in the middle of the woods, when they already knew that Sephiroth was heading to Junon. Maybe there never was a mission.

-

 Dark green forest, thick and muddy from yesterday’s rain, continued on. They hadn’t been walking for long when they were interrupted again; a voice first, shrill and high.

 “Hey!”

 Cloud turned around, only to duck immediately. A foot flew just over his head. Before he had time to realize what was happening, there was another swift kick from behind, and Cloud just barely managed to jump out of the way.

 “What – who –”

 He ducked another high kick, and finally faced the attacker. Her face was covered with a scanty leather mask.

 “What’s goin’ on?” Barret said, confused, not knowing whether this was an enemy he could blast away or not. The girl looked young, although Cloud couldn’t see her face, maybe sixteen, and very slight. Except she had a fierce, fast kick. Cloud pulled out his sword, meaning to hit her with the flat side of it to knock her down. But she was quick, light, and she jumped, stepping on his sword and doing a somersault in the air. Then a leg, going straight for Cloud’s head. Cloud could’ve ducked, but he decided to end it now. He waited until the last moment, grabbed her ankle, and the girl yelped and fell down, struggling so wildly that she took him down with her.

 “ _Ow_! You tricked me!”

 Cloud let go of her ankle and backed away, watching her cautiously.

 “Who are you?” Aerith finally asked. Everything had happened so fast. They were still stunned.

 “Cloud, do you know her?” Tifa asked. Cloud shook his head.

 The girl stood up and made a show of brushing dirt off herself, adjusting the leather mask that’d been knocked askew by the fall. Now that she was standing still she looked even smaller than before, and younger.

 “Man – I can’t believe I lost! To you, of all people – you spiky-headed… person… One more time! Let’s go one more time!”

 She bounced on her heels, and she generally reminded him of Elena, the Turk, except this girl was younger and – more hyper.

 “Not interested,” he said, feeling a little tired. Her energy was draining.

 “Thinkin’ about running away? Stay and fight! _Fight_ , I said! C’mon… what’s the matter? You scared of me?”

 “Hey, little girl…” Barret started to say, hesitant, and that sent her into such a tirade that even Barret couldn’t do much more than stare.

 “I am _not_ a little girl! I’m a super ninja…”

 “Fine, but what do you want?” Cloud asked, feeling himself get a little impatient. Even now the Turks would be getting closer to Junon, and to Sephiroth.

 “It depends,” she said, hands on her hips. “Whatcha guys doin’?”

 “We’re looking for someone,” Aerith said. She looked like she was rather amused by the whole thing.

 “Really? Someone rich?”

 “Someone dangerous. Now –” Cloud started to say, but the girl’s voice cut over his.

 “Can I come too? You’ll _totally_ need my help, you’ll see!”

 “I don’t think so, _ninja_ ,” Barret narrowed his eyes.

 “It’s gonna be really dangerous,” Tifa said. The girl was adamant.

 “I don’t care about the dangerous! I’m used to it, anyway. And – it’s not like anywhere else to go.”

 “Where are your parents?” Red XIII asked, and if she was surprised by the talking beast, she didn’t show.

 “Not here. So can I come?”

 A short silence passed, and Cloud realized that they were all looking at him. No one told him he’d have to make these kinds of decisions, dammit.

 “…Alright? I guess…” He said, and he was almost immediately drowned out by an excited shriek.

 “Great! I’m Yuffie, by the way. Good to meetcha! Here, I’ll give you back the money.”

 “What money?” Cloud asked.

 “The money I stole from you?” Yuffie grinned, ruefully.

 Cloud regretted it already, but it was too late. So he turned away (feeling a headache starting, and a lot more to come in the future), muttered, “Whatever.”

 “Nice to meet you, Yuffie,” he head Aerith laugh.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry it's so late and so short :( But I'll update regularly from now on! Thank you for reading, and enjoy!


	11. Ex-SOLDIER

10\. Ex-SOLDIER

 

Junon – a battered signpost read, hanging almost vertically, on the verge of falling. It brought back a scene from so long ago (a lifetime ago); _Welcome to Nibelheim_ , that sign that had been forever falling apart. This was very similar.

 Cloud led the way into the town. They expected people to look out curiously, but no one did. It was almost completely deserted. The only moving figure they could see was a small shadow on the dock some miles away.

 “Why is it so quiet here?” Tifa wondered, looking around.

 “It’s like a ghost town,” Aerith agreed. She didn’t look appropriately scared, though. Red XIII sniffed the air.

 “It smells funny here – slippery –” He said.

 “Probably the fish smell,” Cloud said. “It’s a harbor, after all.”

 “What is – fish?”

 “You don’t know what fish is?” Yuffie jumped. She’d been a little quiet since they entered the town (hard not to be, amidst the eerie silence), but for the most of the journey she’d been talking, laughing, cracking jokes, and generally making Cloud’s head hurt.

 “Let’s head over there,” he said quickly, cutting Yuffie off before she could start.

 “Yeah, looks like the only person we can talk to,” Tifa agreed.

 They started walking. The buildings and roads were all burning from the sun, silent, almost fading. And the strong smell of ocean wind and salt penetrated through it all. It felt dead – Cloud tried not to look.

 The small figure turned out to be a little girl. She was skipping around, talking to herself – no, she was talking to a –

 “Is that a dolphin?” Aerith asked, delighted. They watched the dolphin swim in and out of the lapping sea-water, droplets gliding off its smooth skin. The girl didn’t seem to notice their arrival. She cupped her hands over her mouth and shouted, “Hey – Mr. – Dolphin!”

 For a wild minute Cloud expected the dolphin to answer back (weirder things have happened), but of course it didn’t; it _did_ jump out of the water a little bit, though, as if it understood. The girl kept shouting. “My name – is – Priscilla! Now – you – say it!”

 “What is that creature?” Red XIII said, suddenly, startling the little girl – Priscilla. She wheeled around, looking scared.

 “Who are you?” She shrieked. “Are you from Shinra?”

 “No, no!” Barret was horrified. “You got it all wrong! We’re fightin’ _against_ Shinra!” He took a step forward, maybe to assure her that they were her friends (Cloud wasn’t sure if her interpretation would be the same, though), only to make her take a step back.

 Yuffie wasn’t helping, either. “Hey, watch your mouth!” She said, hands on her hips. “We hate the Shinra… do we?” She turned to Cloud, grinning a little ruefully. “I’m still not sure what you guys are tryin’ to do.”

 “Yes, we do,” Tifa said, the picture of calm patience. “But I think you scared the girl, Yuffie.”

 “I don’t believe you! Get out of here!” Priscilla shouted.

 “But wait!” Barret said, stepping a little closer. Marlene might have seen kindness and comfort in his expression (maybe), but Priscilla didn’t; she yelped, walked backwards to get away from him, but a foot slipped and the next second, she was over the edge of the dock and into the water.

 Cloud was running in an instant; a reflex, before his mind caught up with what he was doing. He discarded the giant sword and jumped in the water. The coldness on his skin jolted him awake and his breath stuck in his throat. There – thankfully she wasn’t too far away, wrestling against the water, head bobbing up and down. Cloud reached for her, but the current was fast, she was small and she kept getting further away. Cloud had never been much of a swimmer but he had to be, now, and he swam forward against the heavy water crashing against his face and arms and legs. There – almost –

 Then he had her in his arms. Priscilla clung to him, small fists clenched in his shirt.

 When he came back ashore, dripping water and carrying the girl in his arms, some people had gathered on the dock. So it wasn’t a ghost town after all, he thought, tiredly pushing his way in the water. Aerith took Priscilla and handed her to what must have been her father, who hugged the girl tightly. Barret and Tifa helped him climb up to the dock.

 “Thank you so much,” the man said. Priscilla was sniffling a little, but not crying. “Thank you – please, come inside for a while.”

 “It’s nothing,” Cloud murmured, a little uncomfortable with how everyone (five or six adults, wide-eyed, looking tired and dry) was looking at him now.

 “You need to dry your clothes, Cloud,” Aerith said. She smiled at the man. “Can we come, too?”

 “Of course,” Priscilla’s father said. “We have plenty of room – and tea –”

 “Well, alright,” Cloud said, and followed him to his house; which was right in front of them, as it turned out. They had heard Priscilla’s scream and run out, the man explained.

 “Priscilla?” The girl’s mother was standing in the doorway.

 “Honey, this man here saved our little girl,” the man said, pointing at Cloud.

 “It’s really not –”

 “Oh, thank you, thank you so much! Here, won’t you come in? Make yourselves at home, please.”

 “Thank you, Mrs.!” Yuffie said, darting inside. Cloud followed, nodding a thank-you, suddenly feeling weary. Maybe it was the sudden warmth of the house, or something about Priscilla’s mother reminding him of his own, but he felt fatigue cracking bones, splitting veins, and suddenly it was all he could do not to fall asleep as he sat on the sofa of their living room.

 Priscilla’s mother had brought out tea and a home-baked blueberry pie. It was good, it really was, but Cloud could hardly lift the fork to his mouth. They were talking about something – words drifting around him hazily – and he hoped he looked alert and not half-asleep, because that would be –

 But the fire was going in the fireplace, making pleasant cracking sounds, drying his wet hair and clothes –

 He thought he heard someone call his name, but he was already drifting and as he was falling asleep it occurred to him that he hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep since – since when? When had the nightmares begun? Living nightmare… but surely that wasn’t…

 He felt someone drape a blanket over him. And maybe a smile, too, faint and forest-like and very, very warm.

-

 That reminds me.

  _That voice again. Cloud frowns, tries to put a name to it, fails again._

  _“You again? Who are you?”_

_The voice chuckles softly. Cloud feels a little twinge, like he is missing something very important but he can’t figure out what that is. Just a hole, large and empty._

You’ll find out soon enough, _it says._ More importantly, though, five years ago.

  _“Five years ago?” Cloud asks, confused. “Nibelheim?”_

 Tifa was your guide into the mountains, right?

_“Yeah, I remember – I remember I was surprised to see her.”_

 But why didn’t you meet her somewhere else?

  _“What? I dunno.”_

 You two hadn’t seen each other for a long time. Why didn’t you meet, just the two of you?

  _“… I guess you’re right.”_

_It is getting more and more bizarre. It is also hurting his head and making him uncomfortable, and he is glad that it is only a dream._

_It is a dream, isn’t it?_

 So, why?

  _“I don’t know. I can’t remember clearly,” Cloud admits. His memories have holes; like when he was trying to remember what happened at his mother’s house. But the other parts are clear. Almost like it is happening right now. Those are the important parts, Cloud assumes, but are they really?_

 Why don’t you ask Tifa?

_“… Yeah.”_

 So, get up! _The voice orders._

-

 “Cloud, wake up! Cloud – oh! You almost gave me a heart attack.”

 Cloud stared at Tifa for one vacant moment. Then his mouth moved without him really controlling it, forming a question he didn’t mean to ask.

 “Tifa. When Sephiroth and I went to Nibelheim, where were you?”

 “Huh? I – what do you mean? We saw each other, right? You said so in your story.”

 “My story…”

 Tifa wasn’t meeting his eyes. Something was off, though Cloud didn’t know what. She was right; they had seen each other at the foot of the mountain, just as he’d said in his story.

 “Hey, it was five years ago,” Tifa said quickly. “I don’t remember so well. But look, Cloud, something seems strange outside. We should go and check.”

 Cloud thought Tifa was hiding something from him. He thought about pressing her but decided not to. Thought maybe he didn’t want to find out the answer after all.

 “Why? What’s happening?” He dragged himself up from the chair, pushing aside the blanket.

 “It’s weird. Everything got noisy all of a sudden,” Tifa said. Only then did Cloud notice the music playing in the background. It wasn’t exactly smooth, with some out-of-place notes, but it was lively. He followed Tifa outside, and was surprised to find a sudden mass of villagers gathered in the square.

 “Hey, what’s this loud music? It’s giving me a headache!” Yuffie said, jogging up to them. Red XIII and Barret were also outside, frowning and looking for the source of the music. Cloud looked around too, but he couldn’t see a marching band anywhere. He _did_ see Priscilla holding onto a stuffed bear behind Barret, though. Barret hadn’t noticed her. Cloud walked over to her, music smashing against the side of his head. It really _was_ loud.

 “Are you alright now?” He asked, bending down in front of her. Priscilla bit her lips and nodded, vigorously. Her words spurted out too quickly, tangled with each other.

 “Yes. Thanks for saving me. I’m sorry I thought you were Shinra.”

 “That’s okay,” he said, thinking that actually she wasn’t that far off.

 “Oh, hey, little girl,” Barret said, turning around. He reached out his hand as if to ruffle her hair, but thought better of it. “Hey, what’s this music? It sure sounds lively.”

 “I heard from mama they’re rehearsing the reception for the new Shinra president,” Priscilla said, making a face that made Aerith laugh, who had appeared beside Cloud without him noticing.

 “Rufus?” Barret clenched his jaw tight, eyes narrowed. “I gotta pay my respects, then, ain’t that right?”

 “Barret, don’t do anything stupid,” Tifa said, ever-enduring.

 Priscilla wasn’t listening, though. She looked up at Cloud, and he had to bend down again to hear her through all the noise.

 “Grandpa and grandma told me that this beach used to be beautiful when they were little. But after the Shinra built their city in the sky, the water got dirty and it isn’t beautiful anymore. That’s why I hate Shinra.”

 Cloud didn’t know what to say. She looked like she was expecting something, though. Maybe a promise. Maybe he couldn’t make things better but he could promise to try.

 “Shinra did a lot of bad things to me too, and to my friends,” he told her. “That’s why we’re gonna fight them.”

 Priscilla gave him a smile, clutching tightly at her teddy bear, which left Cloud feeling a little weird. Thankfully, Aerith interrupted and saved him from potential embarrassment.

 “You think Rufus is thinking about crossing the ocean from here, too?” She asked.

 “Does that mean Sephiroth has already crossed the ocean?” Tifa said, frowning.

 “That’s not what’s important,” Barret cut in. “What’s important is that we gotta go up to the town there if it means that Rufus is there too! Mebbe we could climb the tower?”

 “No, you can’t!” Priscilla said. “That has really strong electricity running through, daddy said.”

 “Is there another way, Priscilla?” Tifa asked.

 “There is, but it takes really long.”

 “The President could be gone by then,” Red XIII said. He’d been quiet until now, and t talking red beast startled Priscilla a little, though she took it relatively well after she made Red XIII say her name three times.

 “You said electricity…” Aerith said, glancing at the tower, then at Cloud.

 Cloud realized what she was thinking.

 “I think it’ll be alright for me,” he said.

 “Wow! You some superhuman or somethin’, Cloud?” Yuffie said, eyes round.

 “Something like that,” Tifa laughed. Then, a little bit more serious, “Are you sure, Cloud?”

 “Well…”

 “Hey, we’re countin’ on you, Cloud!” Barret said cheerfully. “Go get the bastard!”

 “Good luck, Cloud,” Red XIII said, unnecessarily solemn. It made him a little uneasy, but too late. The cacophonous music clanging in his ears made it hard to think, anyway. He took a step back, measuring the distance with his eyes.

 “No voltage is high enough for you, huh?” Barret’s joke made everyone wine a little.

 “There isn’t electricity through that rod sticking out at the top,” Priscilla said. “But you can’t jump that high.”

 Cloud found the pole she was talking about. It was some distance away, but if he could jump on the rocks on the way, use them as leaping boards –

 “I can make it,” he said. Priscilla’s eyes went wide, admiring, and it made him a little uncomfortable so he cleared his throat and looked away. He better make it, though, if he didn’t want a major embarrassment.

 “We’ll go the long way and join you, okay?” Tifa said.

 “Jus’ don’t let Rufus Shinra get away!” Barret said.

 “Alright.”

 He then took a deep breath, went back a few steps to gain the running space. He swept the distance with his eyes. One – two – three steps, there are the rocks to step on. Alright.

 He started running.

 The heavy, salty wind of the ocean caught his face, tangled in his hair. The world blurred by him in a jumbled mess. One, two, three, and then he jumped. Landed exactly where he should, but didn’t stop; jumped again as soon as his foot touched solid rock. Wind broke, sunlight broke, waves splashed and melted. He got to the last rock; reached out with his hand, fingers touching the tip of the pole. He grabbed it tight, swung himself around and climbed onto the thin rod. He was afraid it might not hold, but it did; it was just wide enough for the width of a single foot, and he didn’t look back as he balanced his way carefully onto the platform, heart still beating fast from the rush of movement and adrenaline. He thought he might have heard them cheer at his back.

-

 Cloud didn’t know where he was going. After climbing onto the platform, he’d tried to follow the source of the music, but the place was so large, and sound echoed, making it hard to determine where it was coming from.

 The platform, as it turned out, was the platform of an airport. Cloud had an urge to rub his eyes, watching an airship take flight. It was so different; an entirely new world from the washed-out village down below. Up here, there were so many people, so much noise, so bright. He read a sleek metal sigh that read _Welcome to Upper Junon_.

 He realized that he had wandered into a corridor with a lot of lockers. He stopped, wondering how he’d ended up here. And there were people here – all of their eyes were fixed on him, as he stood in the middle of the corridor, looking for a way out. But then,

 “ _Hey_! You still dressed like that? Come here!” An angry voice, sounding right beside his ears that it made him jump. Before he could say anything, he was being roughly dragged by two people, after the man who had yelled; he was obviously the commander here.

 He kept speaking, walking fast. “Today is the big day we welcome President Rufus! Hurry up and change, rookie!” They turned a corner. Cloud tried to say he’d made a mistake, but the commander shushed him with a sharp hiss. “Besides, the costume’s great this year. It’s a SOLDIER first class uniform! And when would a scrawny brat like _you_ ever get another chance to wear it, huh? Just make sure you return it at the end of the day… mind you…”

 They had taken him to a changing room of sorts. One of the guys who dragged him here (a blond version of Barret) opened a locker, threw a set of clothes at Cloud and he caught them on reflex. This seemed to have pleased the commander. They left the room, told Cloud to come out when he was changed because he was such a troublesome rookie that they probably had to drag him to the procession themselves, and wasn’t it such a shame, if only they weren’t short on people, as always.

 The door shut, abruptly cutting their voices. Cloud stared at the closed door, then at the clothes he was holding. He wondered what he was doing here.

 Then he really looked, suddenly remembering what the commander had said. It was the Shinra uniform – the SOLDIER uniform, first class, everything he had tried to leave behind. What a joke; it had come back, as if he hadn’t left at all. As if everything he did was just a pathetic attempt of a rooster wanting to fly. There was a loud bang at the door, shouting at him to hurry up. He could probably get past them if he really wanted to, but then, he needed to get to the procession anyway… After a slight hesitation, he began to change. The black sleeveless sweater, black pants, black boots; black _everything_. Being a SOLDIER, it seemed to him now, was just that: black. Walking into a den of monsters, like _he_ had said once…

 He paused; blinked at his own dumb expression.

 Who was _he_? Who’d said that to him once?

 “ _Hey_! What the hell is taking so long?” An impatient shout, and the door banged open. The commander was about to shout again, but he saw that Cloud had changed and he nodded his approval.

 “Alright, that looks fine. Now let’s go – you remember the greeting procedures, right?”

 Cloud stared back at him.

 “… The look on your face says you forgot. But never mind, we’re short on people. Stand with the others and try to follow their moves.

 “Alright, but you better stick me at the back somewhere,” Cloud said quickly, following the commander out the room. The commander was practically running, glancing at his watch, cursing nervously. He didn’t hear Cloud; and before Cloud could protest, he was being shoved by a lot of people, and suddenly he found himself at the very front of the procession.

 Cloud looked around himself, horrified; he thought that being anonymous and uniform in the crowd was the only way now, and tried to imitate the unnaturally flashy moves of the others. All the while he was cursing his own stupidity…

 Rufus Shinra descended from the airship, smiling gracefully. Cloud tried to keep his face away and hoped that Rufus didn’t remember him too well. But when he turned back, he found to his horror that Rufus had stopped right in front of him.

 But thankfully he had his back turned against Cloud; for now, but one sideway turn and they would be standing face-to-face. Cloud was ready to fight if he had to, but he didn’t want to; not yet. Not when he wasn’t sure exactly what it was that Rufus wanted.

 “Well done. Keep up the good work for Shinra,” Rufus commented drily to the commander, not sounding very sincere, but the commander looked extremely pleased with himself. Presently he turned around to bark some more orders at his men.

 “You know, Heidegger,” Rufus said to the man standing next to him. His voice was low, but loud enough for Cloud to hear, because, he was standing right behind the two of them. But then he didn’t have time to dwell on that anymore, because Rufus said, “Once the word gets out that Sephiroth’s here, AVALANCHE will show up too. And my source tells me that the blond one used to be one of us – Cloud Strife, ex-SOLDIER. Allegedly, at least. There _is_ a Cloud Strife in our database, though…”

 “Don’t worry, Mr. President,” Heidegger assured him. “Whoever he is. We’ll find ‘em and  crush ‘em.”

 “It’s true, we can’t have them get in our way.”

 “Leave it up to me, sir!” Then he laughed, and it must have been the oddest (and creepiest) laughter Cloud had ever heard. Rufus frowned.

 “I thought I told you to stop laughing like that. Things are different from when my father was in charge.”

 Heidegger fell silent.

 Cloud swallowed, heart beating irregularly, but he kept his place and kept his face carefully composed.

 Fortunately, Rufus didn’t look back once; Cloud got out of there as quickly as he could, slipping past the commander and into the docking area. He had to find out where Rufus was going, if he was going after Sephiroth. _If word gets out that Sephiroth is here…_ What had he meant?

 Cloud had passed a few airships, when a familiar blur of red caught his eyes. He stopped, incredulous, looked around to see if anybody was watching, then carefully made his way towards Red XIII.

 “What are you doing here?” He asked. “How did you get here so quickly?”

 “Come in quickly,” Red XIII said, not answering his question. “The others are already inside.”

 “You mean –”

 “Yes, we are crossing the ocean. I will be inside the cargo bay.”

 “Everybody is in the cargo bay?”

 “No, they are disguised, blended in. You also look like you could be a guard, so that is fine – come on, quickly.”

 Cloud didn’t have time to argue (not that he would have); he slipped in quickly. He would have to find the others and ask, later.

 It occurred to him about five steps in that he had never been on an airship before. So this thing flies – and crosses oceans.

 He tried not to be too sick about the whole concept.


	12. I Am Not Your Friend

11\. I Am Not Your Friend

-

_“So this is the end of the story,_

_Everything we had, everything we did,_

_Is buried in dust, and this dust is all that’s left of us.”_

From _Eyes Wide Open_ by Gotye

-

 Red XIII told him to go to the sailor’s deck, where the others would be. Cloud spotted Yuffie first, hunched over on the floor clutching the rails near where some sailors were talking. There weren’t many people on the deck other than them. The sailors glanced his way when Cloud came near, but looked away quickly; they saw his uniform. Cloud noted that they didn’t look surprised, though. Did that mean that there were other SOLDIERS on board as well? Was this the ship Rufus had boarded? He felt himself tense, listening for voices through walls, searching for something. But first,

 “Ugh,” Yuffie said when Cloud approached her. Cloud crouched down in front of her, whispered so that the sailors wouldn’t hear.

 “What’s the deal? How come you’re here?”

 “What’s the _deal_? This thing is in the air, and moving on its own, that’s the problem!” Yuffie said. She looked so green and sick that Cloud was tempted to step away from her. Then, suddenly, she grinned, though the sickness hadn’t disappeared completely. “That’s what I tell anyone who comes near me. They just go away.”

 “Hm,” Cloud nodded. He lowered his voice even more, barely a whisper. “Why are we on this ship?”

 The ship lurched a little, then, and Yuffie almost shrieked. She grabbed the windowsill so tight that her knuckles were blue, face deathly pale.

 “On second thought,” Cloud said hurriedly. “I better ask someone else.”

 Yuffie nodded. “You do that.”

 “Where are they?”

 “I don’t… know… blending in… Hey, Cloud, you got a tranquilizer?”

 “A what?”

 “Tran… never mind. Obviously not.” Yuffie rolled her eyes, waved a hand in front of her face. “Now go away and leave me to rot in hell.”

 He did, gladly, and made his way to the main deck. There were more people here, sitting in groups of twos and threes, looking out the full-glass window. Cloud chanced a glance, saw sky – and then quickly looked away.

 He found Aerith sitting in front of the window at the back, alone, but not looking out of place. She was sitting on an observation bench with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her long braided hair hung behind her back, dangling with the movements of the ship. Cloud walked behind her and tapped her shoulder. She wasn’t surprised to find him here, he thought, smiling up at him like they had promised to meet each other here.

 “Hey, Aerith,” he said, sitting down next to her. “Nice disguise.”

 Aerith laughed. “Once we sneaked inside, they didn’t really check.”

 “Speaking of which, how come you’re all on board?”

 “Oh, we were making our way to the airport, and then Barret saw Rufus Shinra walking into this ship. And then…”

 “Got it,” Cloud nodded. “But what if I hadn’t come?”

 “I guess we would have left without you,” Aerith says, exaggerating a shrug. “Oh well.”

 “… Yeah.” Cloud scoffed, stood up. “I’m gonna go find the others.”

 “Okay,” Aerith laughed, and went back to looking out the window. Cloud thought about asking what she found so interesting in the endless skies, but didn’t. For no particular reason, except that he didn’t want to disturb this, now, her soft brown hair and shaded green eyes. So he left, without saying anything.

 He found Barret just outside the bridge, not so inconspicuously peering inside.

 “Barret!” Cloud said, in a whisper. “You’re gonna –”

 “Oh, hey, Cloud – but look! It’s Rufus Shinra and that damn Heidegger. They’re _this_ close…”

 Barret held up his thumb and forefinger, almost touching.

 “Don’t cause a ruckus,” Cloud warned. “We’re outnumbered.”

 “I know, but…” His face distorted. Then suddenly, he slapped his thighs and snarled, “God! I can’t take it no more! I’m gonna settle this thing here an’ now –”

 “Wait!”

 But Cloud voice was flooded over with a loud beeping noise, a siren, that started flashing red.

 “ _Emergency alert! Reports of a suspicious character!”_ A voice boomed so close to Cloud’s ears that he almost smashed the wall speaker reflexively. “ _Those not on detail, search the ship, report when found! I repeat, reports of a suspicious character…”_

 “Damn, did they find us?” Barret cursed, jumping up on his feet. “Get off yer spiky butt and let’s go, Cloud!”

 Cloud followed Barret out through the corridor (thankfully they were not seen by Rufus and Heidegger, who darted out right after they’d left, confused), wondering if it wasn’t best to give themselves up, if they _had_ been compromised. They didn’t stand much chance against a ship full of men, and besides, there might be other SOLDIERS here as well. And there was nowhere to run to. He felt a little claustrophobic.

 They must have agreed to meet at the cargo bay where Red XIII was, because that was where Barret was headed. When they rushed in, having passed all the passengers who had half-stood up, looking around confusedly, they were all gathered there.

 “Everyone all right?” Tifa said, wiping sweat off her forehead. “Oh, Cloud – good, you found us.”

 “Did they find us?” Yuffie shrieked, clutching her stomach.

 “I don’t know… but they didn’t look like they were chasing us,” Aerith frowned.

 “Hey, wait, you don’t think that suspicious character is,” Barret gulped. “ _Sephiroth_?”

 “Sephiroth? Really?” Tifa said, eyes wide.

 “I don’t know! I’m jus’ sayin’…”

 “Let’s find out,” Cloud decided. Hearing his name brought something vile to his throat, the skies all around him were closing in like some Mako-filled tubes in an inescapable pod, and his heart was beating too quickly.

 “But we don’t know where to go,” Tifa said, carefully, like her words could harm him somehow. Cloud took a deep breath.

 “I know where to go.”

 “How? Is that one of your superhuman thingy?” Yuffie asked.

 “We’re gonna follow the blood.”

 “What blood?”

 But they found it all right, a long trail of blood, spatters and drags that led to another cargo hold on the other side of the ship. Cloud wasn’t exactly sure how he’d known that there would be blood; but if it was Sephiroth, there would be. If it was – who was he kidding, he knew it was, he could feel it in his Mako-tainted veins. One failed SOLDIER calling to another, perhaps.

 When they entered the room, all he could see at first was blood. There was too much blood. He counted three dead, two sailors and one Shinra infantry, who had probably died before they could report the location. It was quiet, except for the metallic smell of blood which filled the air sharp and rusty. But there was too much blood. Pools of it under each body, of course, but all over the floor and walls too, like someone had intentionally spread it that way.

 Then he looked up, and like a predetermined play sequence, there he was; standing in the middle of the room, suddenly, staring at him. His long sword was dripping more blood. But he wasn’t dirty, not one drop of red on his silver hair and black uniform. Except for the setting sun, a blazing orange sunlight that suddenly exploded from behind a cloud, creeping in from a window high on the wall and sliding down through his hair.

 Cloud opened his mouth. He wasn’t sure what to say first. “Sephiroth.”

 Sephiroth just stared. Placid, almost even content.

 “You’re alive,” Cloud said. He was calmer than he’d imagined he would be. And he had imagined it a lot on the way, how their reunion might look like after so many years.

 “After so many years,” Sephiroth said, echoing his thoughts, startling him. “After a long sleep. The time has come, finally.”

 His voice was terribly low, terribly soft; the airship moved and the sunlight disappeared. The entire room was now his voice, and Cloud couldn’t move if he wanted to. Sephiroth took a step forward. He wanted to step back but didn’t – couldn’t – wouldn’t? There was a crooked smile on Sephiroth’s face, the only kind of smile he’d ever worn.

 “Cloud.”

 “The time – the time for what? What are you –” He swallowed. Didn’t want his voice to crack, didn’t want to show him any kind of emotion. Betrayal, hurt, fear, everything, he would keep it all down. He would hide everything away. So Cloud tried again. “What are you going to do, Sephiroth?”

 “Cloud,” Sephiroth said again, as if that was the only thing he could say, as if he was confused still. The blood gathered at the tip of his sword, dropped heavily in a fast-gathering pool below. Cloud waited, with his breath held. He did not trust himself to speak. He did not know why he didn’t lunge forward, pierce his heart with his sword; except that he knew, almost definitively, that it would be no use. Sephiroth was not – whole – his eyes, green and vivid, did not flame, did not gleam, were tainted orange by the sunlight. Outside, the clouds must have moved away again. There was a burst of red and orange that he was blinded for a moment, had to close his eyes for a second.

 “I am not –”

 “What?” Cloud opened his eyes, but Sephiroth was gone. Only an unfinished sentence was left hanging, filling the room, and Cloud stared at the empty space and the pool of blood left behind, which had gained sickly orange shadows from the sun.

 Maybe he was never here, Cloud thought numbly. Maybe I am dreaming again.

 But he wasn’t. Tifa drew in a sharp breath behind him.

 “Where’s Sephiroth?” Came her bewildered voice.

 “He was here just now!” Barret roared, eyes wide and searching, like Sephiroth might just be hiding behind one of the craters.

 “He’s not here, Barret, he’s gone.” Cloud said, feeling the throb of absence behind his eyes. There was a part of him that was connected to Sephiroth somehow. The thought made him sick.

 “That was one _hell_ of a creepy dude,” Yuffie decided.

 “Wait, there is something there on the floor,” Red XIII said, approaching carefully. He nudged it over with his paw. It looked like a tangled mess of tentacles.

 “ _Urgh_ ,” Yuffie groaned loudly. “Really? _Tentacles_? Urgh, I’m gonna be…”

 “What’s that?” Tifa sounded horrified too. Cloud was about to say he didn’t know, when he realized it looked familiar. But he _did_ know. He had seen it, or at least something very similar to it, a long time ago and also not too long ago.

 “That looks like Jenova,” he said. “… Maybe an arm.”

 “The hell?” Barret grunted, stepping back from the thing. Red XIII darted back to them as well, growling low.

 “It was Sephiroth, right?” Cloud said, just to be sure. Murmurs of agreement; so that was good, he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Not a hallucination this time. Or was that a bad thing?

 “He said some dramatic thing like,” Yuffie dropped her voice, imitating Sephiroth’s deep, ringing voice. “ _The time has finally come_.”

 “What does that mean?” Tifa said, frowning.

 “Who knows? He creeps me the hell out…” Barret shuddered.

 “He said something else, too. Or tried to,” Cloud said. Everybody looked at him. “At the end, right before he disappeared. He said, _I am not_ –”

 “I am not – what?” Barret asked.

 “I don’t know. Didn’t anyone hear that?”

 “I didn’t,” Tifa said, uncertain.

 “Me neither. He must’ve whispered or somethin’.”

 Cloud didn’t say anything. Maybe _that_ part had been his imagination – he wasn’t sure.

 One thing, though, was that now they knew for certain that Sephiroth was alive. Cloud didn’t know if he was still human (or if he ever was), but he was alive, and conscious, and he had something in mind. He was sure of _that_ , at least.

  _I am not_ –

 I am not your friend anymore, Cloud imagined Sephiroth saying. It could have been that. Or maybe he is just being naïve and optimistic, thinking that Sephiroth had ever thought him a friend.

 But Cloud had. And Sephiroth wasn’t. Not anymore. 


	13. Claustrophobia

11\. Claustrophobia

-

The airship finally landed in Costa del Sol. They had searched behind every cargo and in other parts of the ship, and so had the other Shinra soldiers and the ship’s sailors. But they hadn’t found a trace of Sephiroth anywhere; like he had simply vanished.

 Or like he hadn’t been there in the first place.

 Cloud tried to shake that thought as they slipped through the back down onto the dock. They watched Rufus and Heidegger head one way, and went another, much to Barret’s disappointment.

 Costa del Sol was a beach town, always sunny. Even now in early December, sunshine poured in from all directions and seemed to soak up the shadows too. It was unfiltered, raw, smashing into their foreheads and the ground. Cloud wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead.

 “Damn! Sure is hot here!” Barret complained. He wiped his one hand across his face, which came away dripping. As a (sort of) disguise, Barret had worn a white sailor’s uniform jacket to hide his gun-arm, and now he was taking it off (almost ripping it off). “At least now I get to say goodbye to this sailor suit.”

 “Aw,” Yuffie had almost recovered now, although there were hints of green in her face. “Too bad. I kinda liked it. You look… you look…”

 “I look…?” Barret waited, expectant.

 “You look like… help,” Yuffie turned her wide eyes to Aerith and Tifa. Red XIII slithered between their legs and hid behind Cloud’s sword. Heat was making stains on his back, and the sword felt heavier than usual. Cloud wished they could get somewhere cool.

 “Um… _cute_?” Aerith offered.

 “ _Cute_?” Barret said, incredulous (but a little bit pleased). Tifa shrugged her shoulders.

 “Oh, I don’t know. What do you think, Cloud?”

 Cloud watched her try not to laugh (Aerith was biting her lips too), and blinked; all he could think was that it was hot, way too hot, it never got this hot in Nibelheim. And it was sticky; it was like sunlight became invisible worms and stuck to their arms and necks.

 “What, you got nothin’ to say –”

 “You look like,” Cloud interrupted Barret. “A bear wearing marshmallow.”

 Honestly, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it was just too hot and he had to say something to get out of here. Tifa and Aerith burst out laughing; Yuffie was almost rolling on the ground from giggling too much, and even Red XIII huffed in amusement.

 Barret just stared at him. “You – you spiky-headed –”

 Cloud shrugged. Aerith came to his rescue, wiping tears from her eyes.

 “Oh, come on, Barret, it was a compliment.”

 Barret narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You sure?”

 “Yeah, it was a compliment,” Cloud dismissed him.

 “Can we take a break? Please? The heat here’s drying my nose.” Yuffie said.

 “What does that mean, anyway?” Barret grumbled.

 “Alright,” Cloud said. He wasn’t exactly sure where to head from here, with Sephiroth just – disappearing – like that, and he would have to ask around the town, maybe trail Rufus or something. All the better with less people around. And besides, the intense sunlight was making him dizzy. “We’ll take a little break. Don’t wander too far off.”

 “I’ll wander wherever damn I want,” Barret said, still a little pissed about the marshmallow remark. “Who made _him_ the leader?”

 “C’mon, Red!” Yuffie, who had taken to Red XIII like he was a talking, walking stuffed animal, bounded away in a second. Barret stomped away in the opposite direction, murmuring _marshmallow…_ under his breath. So Cloud was left with Tifa and Aerith. He was about to say goodbye and head off on his own, when Tifa said,

 “Let’s go to the beach.”

 “Beach?” Aerith said, eyes wide. “I’ve never been to the beach.”

 Tifa grinned. “Me neither. Have you, Cloud?”

 “What? Uh, no,” Cloud answered, a little thrown. “But listen, I better go and –”

 “That can wait,” Tifa said. “Come on, we’re taking a break, right?”

 “I’ve never even seen the ocean up close,” Aerith chimed in, looking hopefully up at Cloud. He was at a loss for what to say, reasons to refuse them. He supposed that he _could_ have said no and went off, but he didn’t; Tifa wasn’t sure he’d go, a hint of a question in her eyes, but Aerith was sure. Cloud felt, like he often did with Aerith, that he was being transparent somehow. He was not much of an enigma to her, like he was with Tifa and the others. Tifa, he supposed, was still getting used to the idea of this version of him, new and improved (except, not really) – and in the end he didn’t say no, because Aerith didn’t know him all that well and Tifa did, and it was all very complicated. It was hard to think anyway, with the heat messing with his head.

 “Well, okay, then,” he finally said. “For a little while.”

-

 The beach was not what he had expected.

 Sand stuck to his feet, there wasn’t a shade to hide beneath, the wind was heavy and salty. Somehow, in all of the pictures he’d seen, he’d imagined it to be more – just _more_. But the waves, they were magnificent.

 He listened to the sound of the waves crashing down on rocks, the shore. It was almost hypnotic, how they kept their time like clockwork. The sun (which he was really beginning to resent) dissolved in white foam. Everything was just so bright. So different from the mountains where he’d grown up, all their shadows. Here, light was on everything equally, in every corner; burned the eyes, when you stared at the grains of sand too long. Occasionally seagulls spread their wings and flew into the endless sky. That was another thing; the sky. It was so vast that it scared him a little, especially how it would meet the sea on the horizon and it would blur in azure, indistinguishable.

 For a moment it was almost peaceful (the voices in his head muted, for once); but not for long.

 “Cloud!” Aerith suddenly gasped. Her hand touched his arm, salt-drenched and burning.

 “What?” He looked at her. She was looking at something else.

 “Look!” She pointed down at the lower beach.

 In the middle of the sunshine, white sand, people having pleasant times, stood a man that looked so out of place that he looked like someone had cut and pasted him in the scenery. The air around him seemed darker, even, denser than the rest. Cloud recognized him at once, of course. How couldn’t he? He swallowed back a bile in his throat, fought the irrational _fear_ that threatened to overwhelm him every time he saw the man. The fear – it was stupid, because he was just a sick scientist, and he should be disgusted instead. It was a thin line, though.

 “Hojo,” he spat out, forcing himself to keep calm. “What is he doing here?”

 “Should we find out?” Tifa said, biting her lips.

 “I don’t know – Tifa, can you go find the others?” Cloud said.

 “Yeah, sure.”

 Tifa took one last look at the unmoving back of Hojo, then ran back the way they came. Aerith rubbed her arms as if she was cold, even though it wasn’t.

 “I have a really bad feeling about this,” she murmured.

 “About what?” Cloud asked, wading through sand that suddenly felt too heavy and thick. “Hojo?”

 “Yeah. Specifically, what he’s doing here in Costa del Sol,” Aerith said, following him.

 “Well, at least it means we’re on the right track.” Cloud sucked in a breath, then called, “Hojo!”

 He stopped when he thought they could hear each other without shouting. He didn’t want to get too close to him. Aerith was half a step behind him, fidgeting a little. Cloud thought that the sun looked grayer. The waves died down in his mind. Hojo turned around.

 “Oh, it’s you. It’s been a long time, Cloud,” Hojo’s lips turned up in a crooked smile. “I was just so busy last time for a proper greeting…”

 “I don’t need your greeting,” Cloud said, trying to talk himself out of just punching the man right in the face. “What are you doing here?”

 “I thought it was rather obvious,” Hojo said. “I’m getting a tan.”

 Cloud took a deep breath. “Answer me,” he said, in the calmest voice he could manage. Something was boiling inside his chest and it had nothing to do with the stifling heat. Cloud was almost afraid to name it because it felt disturbingly like –

 “I believe we’re both after the same thing, Cloud.”

– suffocating, small room, stench of Mako so thick, no way out –

“You mean Sephiroth?” He heard Aerith ask, voice distant. He shook himself awake. _Get it together now,_ he thought desperately.

“Yes,” Hojo narrowed his eyes, suddenly eager. “Did you see him?”

“We did,” Cloud said, although he briefly considered lying, just so he could disappoint Hojo. But what was the point? And maybe Hojo could tell them something… if Cloud could make him –

“Hmm,” Hojo chuckled. “I see.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just remembered a certain hypothesis,” he said, unctuously, wiping a false streak of tear off his face. “Oh, isn’t it wonderful, though?”

“Speak straight, Hojo,” Cloud growled; he wanted to grab his sword, but didn’t. Hojo had no idea how close to a painful death he was. He carried on, looking directly at Cloud this time.

“Tell me, Cloud,” he said. “Haven’t you ever had the feeling that something is calling you? Or maybe that you had to be somewhere…”

Cloud stared at him. He didn’t even feel the heat anymore.

He loathed the fact that he knew what Hojo was talking about. Did he know something that Cloud didn’t? But he couldn’t show it, couldn’t let him know how scared he was. The humid air was crawling all over his skin and sticking to his thoughts. He tried to keep his voice cool.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So – how are you following Sephiroth, then?” Hojo said, it seemed, fighting back a smile. Cloud drew a breath.

“I followed the Shinra and the Turks. I’m going to find Sephiroth and put an end to all this.”

“I see. Interesting.” Then, looking down at Cloud’s SOLIDER uniform, he finally let out a smirk. “Were you ever in SOLDIER, Cloud?”

 Before he knew it, Cloud was reaching for his sword. Blood boiled and burned his head, spilled over, burned over his eyelids. He didn’t even know why he was so mad, by _this_ , of all things; of course he was in SOLDIER, of course he was…

 “Cloud!” Red XIII leapt on him, pushing him back, making him fall on the sand. “You realize –” Red III growled. Yuffie was also running toward them, skidding to a halt next to Aerith.

 “Okay, okay. I got it,” Cloud muttered, still pinned down by Red XIII. He could feel sand sticking all over him. His breaths were still coming a little short, but the initial madness had died down a little. He could see Hojo’s face behind Red XIII, and found it startled. He hoped that Hojo had been scared for his life, even for just a second. Hojo had composed himself again, though, and was now walking toward Aerith. He made to get up but Red XIII was still pressing down on him. Instead, Tifa and Yuffie both stood a little closer to Aerith. Yuffie was glaring at Hojo with such hatred, but Hojo didn’t seem to notice. He stopped in front of Aerith.

 “You’re that Ancient that ran away from my lab,” he said.

 “My name is Aerith,” she said, calm and even pleasant, and her face calmed Cloud down a little. “You’re that scientist that kidnapped me.”

 “Technically, it was the Turks,” Hojo dismissed her. “So, how is your mother? Ifalna?”

 “You didn’t know? She’s dead,” Aerith said.

 “I see,” Hojo looked thoughtful. Cloud wondered how he knew Aerith’s mother, when he remembered – _as a specimen, she is inferior to her mother._ And he would have thrown Red XIII off himself, if Aerith didn’t look so calm and composed.

 “Tell me something, professor Hojo,” she was saying, “Is Jenova an Ancient? And Sephiroth, too? Do they have the same blood that I do?”

 They never got the answer from Hojo. Just as he was opening his mouth, a bear – no, _Barret_ – was jumping all over him and yelling and trying to attack, and as much as Cloud wanted Hojo shredded, they needed answers still. But when they managed to calm Barret down, Hojo had already disappeared.

 “Damn, those slinky Shinra rats,” Yuffie huffed. “They make ‘em practice teleporting or something?”

-

 Barret was sporting a few bruises, but still needed to cool his head; the heat, along with everything else, must be getting to him. So they dragged him to an inn nearby, and locked him in a room. Cloud and Tifa were completely exhausted after that ordeal, and they went down the steps of the inn without saying anything much.  

 And then, someone called,

 “Hey, uh, Tifa?”

 Tifa looked around for the voice, and when she saw who was speaking, her face lit up in a pleasant surprise. Cloud followed her eyes and saw a man standing by the foot of the staircase, nervously clutching the rails. He didn’t recognize him.

 Tifa did, though.

 “Johnny!”

 Johnny’s face lit up, too, twin smiles on their faces. “Yeah! You remember!”

 Johnny. That rings a bell. Cloud frowned, staring at the man’s face. In fact, he might have seen him somewhere – no, _definitely_ he has seen him –

 “Hey, Johnny,” Tifa said quickly. “This is Cloud. You remember him?”

 Cloud kept a carefully blank expression on his face, while Johnny scrutinized him. He looked surprised, for some reason, and uncomfortable.

 “Yeah – ‘course, Cloud,” Johnny said, grinned unconvincingly.

 “Cloud, do you remember Johnny too? He went to our school back in Nibelheim,” Tifa said.

 “Oh, right,” Cloud said. “Sure.”

 “You look good, Cloud, I remember you were a – um, quiet boy – well, good to see you again.”

 “Yeah, you too,” Cloud said. Johnny was forcing a smile on his face. Yes, but not really; he remembered Johnny now. He couldn’t believe that he’d forgotten.

 It was strange; his memories with Sephiroth and SOLDIER were so clear, clearer than photograph, like he was living it today. But the memories from Nibelheim came staggeringly, in pieces, all faded. But he remembered Johnny now. Of course. He was the one who’d pushed him into the river that January.

 Well, to be fair, Cloud thought, I broke his nose after that.

 “So, Tifa – you wanna catch up or somethin’? I’ll buy you a drink,” Johnny said, and _this_ smile wasn’t forced. Cloud watched the two of them.

 “Oh, I don’t know – do we have the time?” Tifa turned to Cloud, now. Cloud wished she could read what she was saying with her eyes, but he never could; so instead, he just shrugged.

 “We’re taking a break, remember?”

 “Yeah, but –”

 “Go ahead, Tifa,” Cloud said. “We don’t even know where to go yet. And besides, Barret needs to cool down.”

 “Okay –” Tifa smiled, a little hesitantly. “I won’t be late, though.”

 He’d never told her about the river. No, he had, but he hadn’t said _who_. He wondered why he hadn’t. It looked like Johnny was wondering the same thing. He shot a look at Cloud, then disappeared with Tifa down the stairs.

 It was so long ago. It was stupid, what they fought about. The reasons – kids always had their reasons, but he couldn’t remember them now. The one thing he really remembered was the feeling of being angry, constantly, and he might not have started all those fights but he sure never backed away from them. Bruises, cuts, sometimes broken bones – maybe that was why he couldn’t remember Nibelheim so clearly. He didn’t _want_ to remember.

 And now he’d forgotten why they’d been heading downstairs in the first place. He walked up the stairs again, an illogical anger swirling in his head. He might have stomped a little – but he froze at the top of the stairs, when he found Aerith sitting in the otherwise empty corridor, leaning against the door to his room. She looked up when she heard him come, smiled, and Cloud felt a little embarrassed and somewhat flustered. He couldn’t remember why he was so frustrated a minute ago; maybe he’d never known.

 “Aerith, what are you doing here?”

 “Ah, waiting for you, obviously,” she said, and patted the spot next to her, on the wooden floor. Cloud sat down slowly, the sword on his lap. The wood wasn’t too hard on his back; the years had worn it soft and smooth.

 “I was standing, initially,” Aerith said, a silent laughter in her voice. They were both staring at the empty air, not looking at each other. “But I was so tired – I don’t know why. So I sat down, and I couldn’t get up.”

 “It was a tiring few days,” Cloud said, feeling like it wasn’t an answer enough.

 “There are so many things I don’t understand,” Aerith said softly. “I feel –” She shook her head. The tip of her braid brushed Cloud’s bare arm. “Cloud, can you tell me something?”

 “Yeah, what?”

 “What do you think of me?”

 “What?” Cloud blinked, not knowing exactly what she was saying, thinking that he was glad the corridor was dark and empty.

 “I mean, which part of me is like an Ancient? What is an Ancient supposed to be like?” She continued.

 “Oh… Yeah, I mean, um, I’m not really sure. It’s –” Cloud heard himself stuttering, and stopped.

 “I’m just a normal girl, though,” Aerith said.

 “Well, you – you’re not normal,” Cloud said, wondering if this was the right thing to say. “I mean, you can talk to the Planet and stuff. Not every girl can do that.”

 Aerith laughed, to his embarrassment, but it was a pleasant laughter.

 “I guess you’re right. Not every girl can do that.”

 He heard her get up, clothes rustling, the wooden floor creaking. He swallowed and got up too, feeling a little strange.

 “Well, I guess I’m gonna go to bed now. Thanks for listening, Cloud.”

 “I didn’t do anything,” he muttered.

 “It helped, though.” It had gotten quite dark outside, and he could just make out the lines of her face, smiling.

“Okay,” he said. He didn’t know what else to say, so he added, “Good night.”

“Good night.”

 He watched her disappear through the corridor, the darkness engulfing her. Maybe he _did_ know why he hadn’t told Tifa about Johnny. Maybe he had always known.

 Cloud turned and walked into his room, suddenly feeling so tired. It had been a long day.


	14. Absolution

13\. Absolution

-

_“Ever carried the weight of another, for how long?_

_I walked as far as they need to recover, for how long?_

_But are we scared to take the ride, or dare to look inside,_

_I’m floating far away.”_

From _Overweight_ by _Blue October_

-

 They left the town early next morning; not that it was much cooler, but the sun diluted almost immediately when they walked out of the town, like a white-hot spotlight had been shining on just that part of the world.

 “It is those mountains,” Red XIII said. “They are casting shadows on us.”

 The mountains, as Red XIII had pointed out, were looming over their path, casting shadows so deep that it almost looked like the entrance of a cave.

 “Where are we going next, Cloud?” Tifa asked. She was fanning herself with her hand, looking at the shadow-path longingly. Cloud thought she looked a little tired. They hadn’t mentioned Johnny since yesterday. Not that he particularly wanted to.

 “Did you ask around?” Aerith asked.

 “Yeah, but – no one saw anything odd.”

 “And Rufus?” Barret said his name like a curse. Cloud shook his head.

 “Disappeared.”

 “We should of kept closer watch, dammit –”

 “Hey, it was _you_ who went all berserk on that creepy dude yesterday –” Yuffie said.

 “Stop quarreling,” Red XIII said, and Cloud thought he sounded tired. “So what now, Cloud?”

 “Now…” Cloud looked at the mountain-path again. “We go that way.”

 “Why?” Red XIII asked.

 “Because –” It was true, what Hojo said. He could _feel_ – which meant that some part of him was connected to Sephiroth, in some way. _Haven’t you ever had the feeling that something is calling you?_ “Because that’s the only way we _can_ go,” Cloud managed to say, before the pause dragged on too long. “This is a harbor town, so there’s no way back. And if it’s true that Sephiroth was here, then there are only two ways he could’ve gone. To the South is Gelnika, but that’s underwater. So –”

 “So this is the only way he could have gone,” Red XIII nodded. He darted forward first, disappeared into the shadow.

 “What are those mountains called?” Aerith asked, following Red XIII. The air was immediately cool when they entered the shadows. The sea-wind humidity was behind them, and it was cool – almost cold here.

 “Corel Mountains.” It was Barret who answered. There was a strange light in his eyes, though, like he was seeing something else, walking into someplace else as they went deeper into the mountain-paths. But then, maybe it was just the ways the shadows suddenly blocked out the sun.

-

 It got colder as they walked on; almost turning frosty. Their breaths started coming out white, swirling in the air in front of their faces. Yuffie, who didn’t have a jacket, was constantly shivering and cursing under her breath (Aerith offered hers, but Yuffie thought it a disgraceful defeat).

 The mountains reminded him of Nibelheim. Cloud found his footing easily enough among the array of rocks and braches, bare and slippery. It used to be so quiet in the mountains; Cloud had often wandered into the depths, getting lost on purpose, hoping he wouldn’t find his way back out. But he always did. Or, when he didn’t, Tifa came looking for him. Cloud saw Tifa walking ahead of him, easily, and wondered if she was remembering the same thing.

 Despite the mutterings, Yuffie was actually quite natural in the mountains. She jumped around and through the trees like some kind of an animal, keeping par with Red XIII. Aerith had it a little harder, and Cloud occasionally stopped and held out his hand for her, to step over rocks.

 The strange thing was that Barret was getting quieter and quieter with every step they took. It was starting to be unsettling; even Yuffie noticed.

 “Hey, big guy, what’s up with you?” She asked, trying to be off-handed about it.

 “It’s nothing,” Barret grunted, didn’t stop walking.

 Yuffie frowned, looked at Cloud, but he didn’t know what to say.

 Soon, they passed a signpost; scrawny arrows pointing at two different directions – _Village, Reactor._

Barret, who had been walking in front, kicked it over; it broke cleanly in two pieces, being half-frozen by frost.

 “Woah –” Yuffie started to say something, but Barret walked past without explaining, stomping on the fallen piece that read _Reactor_.

 “Barret, are you okay?” Tifa called at his back. No answer. In the end they just had to follow him. Red XIII purred, in a way that sounded like a sigh.

 “What’s gettin’ him all worked up?” Yuffie asked, bewildered.

 “He – he hates Mako reactors,” was all Tifa could offer. She shrugged, helpless. “I don’t really know.”

 They kept walking in the direction that said _Village_ , but there was no village. All they found was a garbage dump; piles of trash, scraps of metal, disconnected parts of various machines piled up into a huge mountain – monument – in the middle of a clearing.

 But then, looking closely, Cloud found tents in between piles of trash; kids, too. They all stopped what they were doing (which looked like a game of hide-and-seek) and stared at Cloud and the others as they walked into the garbage dump.

 Or, actually, the village of Corel, according to the sign.

 “This is the village?” Yuffie said in a whisper. But it was too loud anyway, in the sudden and absolute silence. Some adults looked out from their tents, behind flaps, but their stares didn’t look friendly. Even when they looked away, the looks seemed to linger behind; no one knew what to say. Barret remained silent.

 “Let’s get outta here quick, Cloud,” Yuffie murmured, almost in Cloud’s ear.

 “We have to ask first,” Red XIII reminded them, but he looked reluctant too. “If anybody has seen a man like Sephiroth.”

 “Yeah,” Cloud said, thinking that it had gotten very cold all of a sudden. He looked around for someone he could talk to, found a man who was coming straight at him.

 It was a tall man; towering a few centimeters over Barret, and he had two friends with him. Had the face of a man looking for a fight (Cloud would know), and Cloud started backing away; except, they weren’t looking at Cloud. They walked past him and stopped in front of Barret. Barret just stared back at the three men, not saying anything. The man in the middle spat something out on the ground next to Barret.

 “Well, lookit this, men. Never thought I’d ever see yer face again,” he said, voice acidic. The other two chuckled, or growled; Cloud couldn’t tell. But he could _definitely_ tell that they were angry. And that they had a good reason behind it, although he didn’t know what that could be; they weren’t just picking fights. He felt the tension in the air. _This could get ugly_ , he thought. Barret still didn’t say anything.

 “So, whatcha doin’ with all those ladies, huh?”

 “Hey, hey, he’s got hisself a prettyboy, too,” one of the others leered. Red XIII watched him tensely, probably wondering if he needed to jump on Cloud and stop him again; but there was no need. As much as Cloud was used to – this, the sneers, the condescension , he didn’t even feel the insult now. They had to get out of here, without too much trouble.

 The third man laughed a violent laughter. “Well, I feel sorry for you, then – hangin’ round a walkin’ death-sentence like Barret frickin’ Wallace.”

 “Lookit this place,” the tall man had given up all pretenses now; he was snarling, spitting fury, taking a step closer to Barret. “It’s all _yer_ fault that North Corel turned into a garbage heap like this! Why doncha say somethin’, huh? Got nothin’ to say?”

 Barret kept silent. He didn’t look away, either. The man met his stare for a while; but eventually he backed up, spitting on the ground, eyes burning with hatred.

 “Forget it,” he said. “You ain’t even worth the effort.” He turned away; the _disgust_ was almost palpable.

 “Hey,” one of the men turned to Cloud. “I don’t know ya, but I wouldn’t waste time with this techno-freak. He gonna stab yer back sooner or later.”

 “Don’t say we didn’t warn ya, kid,” the other growled, threw one last glance at Barret’s too-still form and walked away.

 The road out of the town was short, but felt long; Cloud felt it stretch into infinity, felt the gazes of the townspeople at his back like needles drawing blood. He could only breathe right when they were well out of the town.

 “Hey,” Barret turned to Cloud. “Thanks for keepin’ cool. Sorry ‘bout that.”

 “What happened, Barret?” Tifa asked. She was frowning; Cloud guessed that in all the time she’d known him, Barret had never mentioned this.

 “You heard ‘em. It’s my fault that the town was – destroyed.”

 “How come?” Yuffie asked, but Barret just shook his head. Nobody, not even Yuffie, wanted to question him looking so distraught. They just kept climbing through the rocks in silence for a while.

 But he _did_ tell them, later, when they stopped to catch their breaths in front of a strangely shaped rock, its edges unnaturally smooth. Looking closely, Cloud found that it was like a monument of sorts, with a little plate with a name and date on it at the bottom of the piece.

 “My hometown used to be ‘round here,” Barret said, suddenly.

 “Used to?” Red XIII asked. He had settled himself at the foot of the monument-rock, his red fur rustling and rising with the wind.

 “Well, obviously – it ain’t here no more,” Barret explained, cringing. “Heard it got buried. In just four years.”

 “But the men said…” Aerith hesitated, not wanting to repeat them. Barret heaved a deep sigh.

 “Yeah, an’ they’re right. It’s my fault. _All_ my fault.”

 “Tell us, Barret,” Tifa said. Her voice was soft, gentle, but there was a kind of undeniable authority in it. Barret hesitated.

 “We’ve come all this way to fight together, Barret,” Cloud said. “’Least we should know what we’re fighting against.”

 “Alright, I’ll tell ya. But you might – you might hate me for it afterwards.” Barret’s voice was unusually flat. Yuffie squatted down next to Red XIII.

 “Not like we think you’re like, the saintliest man now. At least I don’t,” she said.

 “I appreciate it, Yuffie,” Barret nodded.

 “What? That wasn’t meant to be a compliment…”

 “Corel had always been a coal mining town,” Barret said over Yuffie’s protest. “Small, dusty, but a hella good town. Even after Mako was bein’ used everywhere else, it took us years to hear ‘bout it. The Shinra people came,” Barret gritted his teeth. “Talked us into utilizin’ Mako energy. And I – the fool I was – I thought it sounded like a good deal, you know.”

 “Mako’s not _all_ bad,” Yuffie said. “I mean, electricity and water’s pretty handy, right?”

 “Yeah, that’s what I thought – but Dyne, my old friend, he was dead against it. He thought it meant we were throwin’ away our coal, which was our life. I thought it was odd at first ‘cause Dyne was the best-educated person in the village, but he was right, of course. But I was so stubborn an’ so sure that in the end he was overruled.”

 “And then the Shinra built the reactor,” Tifa guessed. Barret nodded, grimly.

 “But the thing was,” his expression changed suddenly, remembering – Cloud knew it, knew how memories haunted and never left. “It happened while me an’ Dyne was outta town for a while, an’ when we came back… Corel had been burned down by Shinra.”

 “Burned down?” Cloud’s breath caught in his throat. He did not dare look at Tifa. “Why?”

 Too similar, and Barret seemed to know. He looked at Cloud, sad and solemn.

 “There was an explosion at the reactor. The Shinra blamed the accident on the people – said it was done by a rebel faction.”

 “But that’s –” Tifa didn’t finish, perhaps couldn’t find the words to finish. Too similar. Cloud took a breath, frosty and sharp, that filled his lungs and cut his throat on the way.

 “I know. But also I couldn’t forgive myself. Never shoulda gone along with the building of the reactor…”

 “Barret,” Cloud said. Barret looked at him; Cloud met his gaze, wondered what he was going to say. Barret might have been looking for absolution – for someone to say, it’s not your fault. It’s not.

 But Cloud couldn’t say that; he was the wrong person to say it, didn’t matter what he thought. Nothing mattered but the fact that their villages had burned down, that people had burned, alive, writhing in pain, and it might not exactly have been their faults but that didn’t matter. They carried sins that weren’t exactly theirs, but they still had to carry them on their backs, a million lost voices in their heads.

 So, he supposed, he really didn’t have anything to say to Barret. Except, maybe,

 “We didn’t get to ask where Sephiroth went.”

 Red XIII huffed in amusement.

 “Cloud!” Yuffie exclaimed, half in indignation and half admiration, “That’s all you gonna say?”

 But Barret was laughing, laughing so hard that he was doubling over. Tifa looked bewildered, and Aerith was looking at them both with silent amusement, like she _knew_. Maybe she did, Cloud thought.

 “There is a sign here,” Red XIII said, getting up. “That says – Gold Saucer.”

 “Oh, there’s a cable car along that way,” Barret said, in between hiccups. “At least, there was.”

 “What’s Gold Saucer?” Yuffie asked. She’d gotten over her indignation.

 “It’s like a huge amusement park.”

 “Looks like this is the only way anyone could have gone,” Aerith observed. “It’s too steep to climb from here.”

 “Then we will follow,” Red XIII decided.

 “Hey,” Barret said later, when the others had all went ahead. “Thanks for that.”

 “I didn’t really say anything,” Cloud said, which was true.

 “I know.” Barret grinned. “But you understand.”

 Which was also true, so Cloud nodded.

 “Yeah. You’re welcome.”


	15. Beware of Forgetfulness

14\. Beware of Forgetfulness

 

 “Welcome to the Gold Saucer!”

 The admission lady beamed, as Cloud approached. The gate was flashy, neon, overwhelmingly bright; but the park was inside a huge dome, which would be dimly lit. Night was forever in this park.

 “Ooh, this is my first time in an amusement park!” Yuffie said, rubbing her palms together and eyes glinting with mischievous excitement.

 Cloud frowned. “We’re not –”

 “Yeah, yeah, I know,” Yuffie waved him off, rolling her eyes. “We’re not here to play. We’re looking for Sephiroth, yeah?”

 “How do you want to do this?” Red XIII purred by his legs. He was half-hiding in the shadows like he usually did; despite his bright red fur and flickering drops of fire on his tail, he never attracted unwanted attention.

 “I guess we have to ask around,” Cloud said, wishing that there was a different way, something less crude. “Let’s split up to cover more ground.”

 “I’m goin’ alone. I need time to think,” Barret said. He took a ticket from Cloud’s hand, and disappeared through the busy crowd before they could say anything. The concurrence of people and bright lights hid him fast.

 “Do you think he’s okay?” Aerith said, looking towards his disappeared back.

 “He’ll be fine. He just needs some time,” Tifa said, sounding like she wanted to convince herself. Cloud hoped she was right.

 “I’m gonna go alone, too!” Yuffie said. “I – uh – also need time to think.”

 “You need –” Cloud fought the urge to sigh. “No. Someone’s going with you to look after you.”

 “Hey!” Yuffie had her hands on her hips at that, indignant and fiery. “I’m not some kid that needs looking after!”

 “Yeah? How old are you?” Cloud asked.

 “I’m like – old!”

 “How old?”

 “Old.”

 She was stubborn, alright. Cloud narrowed his eyes, was about to say something when Tifa said, “I’ll go with you, Yuffie.”

 She was smiling serenely, taking Yuffie’s arm. Yuffie flinched; she opened her mouth as if to protest, but took in Tifa’s placid look and gave up.

 “Okay, fine – if you _really_ want to –”

 “I really do.”

 Then Tifa shot a look at Cloud that he didn’t know how to interpret. But it felt like a promise, or a plea, and he nodded; _be careful,_ or maybe, _find Sephiroth._

“C’mon, Red!” Yuffie said, her cheers recovered, darting into the crowd in a second. Cloud didn’t know why he’d bothered to pay for her ticket as well.

 “Good luck,” he told Tifa. Tifa laughed (scoffed) and jogged after Yuffie and Red XIII.

 Which meant that –

 “Looks like it’s you and me,” Aerith was smiling.

 “Yeah,” Cloud said, suddenly confused; there was a twin set of heartbeats over his own, a voice in his head, Aerith’s eyes so green and wide, wide enough to get lost. “Looks like – uh, let’s go.”

 The noise, the people, the lights, lost their individual meanings; they were one, and just a background.

 “Let’s,” Aerith said, taking Cloud’s arm like Tifa had done with Yuffie. Cloud felt confused; as much as the outside cacophony was merging and becoming one around them, he could feel each cell in his body, their replication. Heartbeats.

 He stared at the light pink cotton candy a kid was holding, instead. Distractions.

 “This feels like a date, doesn’t it? Gosh, Cloud – you okay?”

 “Yeah,” Cloud had started to choke on nothing, but covered it up as a cough; thankfully. “Yeah, it’s just – the people – I mean, the air’s a little thick here.”

 Aerith laughed, like she knew something he didn’t. “We had that deal, too,” she said.

 “Deal?”

 “Mm-hm. You be my bodyguard, and –”

 “Oh, yeah, that.” Cloud said, feeling a little flustered. “But this is not really – you know, ‘cause we’re looking for Sephiroth.”

 “Yeah,” Aerith smiled, her eyes folding up in half-moons. “So I guess I’ll still owe you that one date? After all this is over.”

 Cloud nodded, for a lack of a better thing to do. “Let’s think about that later,” he said. He still had that odd twin-heartbeat, that half-hallucination (when was it going to stop?), and the air really _was_ thick around here. There were lots of noises, too: laughter and talk and yelling among cheerful binging, beeping, crunching sounds. Music and machine-voices yelling _Good luck!_ – Cloud felt his head throbbing, even though technically SOLDIERS didn’t _get_ headaches.

 They were keeping a lookout for Sephiroth, which was getting more and more absurd. Sephiroth wouldn’t be here – in the middle of all this – but there was this _feeling_ he had, that kept him going despite reasons. If Aerith thought it weird, she didn’t say anything.

 Then someone was tapping him on the shoulder.

 “Hey, boy,” said a booming voice right in his ear, before Cloud had even turned around. Aerith had been coming back from asking a cotton-candy man about Sephiroth, so she saw it – him – first.

 “Boy?” Cloud muttered, as he turned around. It was a man, the weirdest man he’d ever seen (including Don Corneo, which was saying something); he looked like he was wearing a piece of quilt – just a lot of cloths sewn together for no particular purpose. The colors didn’t match, nor did the materials. Cotton, silk, chiffon, velvet –

 “How is it, you having fun?” The man grinned. His voice boomed like Barret’s.

 “Sure,” Cloud said, suspicious. Aerith had come to stand by him, looking at the man with fascination like she was seeing aliens.

 “Now, I been watching you, and I _know_ that ain’t true!” The man said, gleeful. Cloud thought he would have goosebumps by now, if his skin wasn’t Mako-enhanced.

 “You – you’ve been watching us?”

 “Nothing personal,” the man waved his hands in front of his face. Cloud didn’t know what that was supposed to be – an appeasement? Assurance? “But I seen you askin’ around a lot bout somethin’… and not having real fun! And you don’t wanna disappoint the lady friend there, eh?” He winked – or tried to. Aerith laughed; she was kind that way.

 “Who are you? What do you care?” Cloud asked. He almost had to yell, to be heard over all the noise.

 “Me?” The man brightened, like he was just waiting for Cloud to ask this question. “I’m the owner of the Gold Saucer.”

 Cloud suddenly did not trust the dome and the machines around him anymore. “ _You’re_ the owner?”

 “Yeah, one and only! The name’s Dio, but you can just call me Dio.”

 “You just said your name was Dio.”

 “Yes?” Dio looked honestly puzzled; Cloud gave up, and Aerith bit her lips not to burst out laughing. Dio gave him a dazzling grin nonetheless.

 “So, boy –” Cloud wished he would stop calling him that. “ – What were you askin’ around for, anyway?”

 Cloud and Aerith looked at each other. Cloud shrugged; they might as well ask him, too.

 “Sir, have you seen a weird man around here lately?” Aerith asked, smiling sweetly. “Long silver hair, black cloak –”

 “Oh, hey!” Dio said, suddenly. “I _knew_ it! You guys in the same band or something?”

 “What?” Cloud stopped cold. Dio, of all people – but that feeling was growing stronger, a malicious whisper at the back of his skull. Taunting, almost, but he couldn’t make out the exact words.

 “You know what a Black Materia is?” Dio said.

 “Black Materia?” Cloud looked at Aerith, and knew that they were both thinking the same thing; Aerith’s White Materia, the one she kept in her jacket pocket. Materia usually didn’t come in one color; he’d thought Aerith’s was odd, because it was all white, and now Dio was asking about a Black one.

 “Why do you ask?” He said, cautiously, searching for something in Dio’s plain, hearty face.

 “Well, this other boy you mentioned – he came looking for Black Materia, that’s all. I thought you might know what it was, since I didn’t.”

 “Why did he ask you?” Aerith asked. Her voice was neutral and pleasant, but Cloud knew that there was tension in it that wasn’t there before. White Materia – Black Materia – it was adding up to something in his head, he just didn’t know what that was.

 “I dunno,” Dio shrugged. “Guess he recognized me as the owner?”

 “Are you sure he had – long silver hair and a black cloak?” Cloud asked.

 “Absolutely! The longest hair I’ve ever seen on a man, I tell ya. And… a tattoo on his hand.”

 “A tattoo? On his hand?” Cloud blinked.

 “Cloud?” Aerith asked. “Does he –”

 Cloud tried to remember; he’d never _seen_ a tattoo on Sephiroth’s hand, but then he couldn’t remember seeing his hand at _all_. All he could remember were those black leather gloves that he’d always had on. Always.

 “What… what did it look like? The tattoo, I mean,” Cloud asked.

 “Well, it might not of been a tattoo. Maybe he drew it with a sharpie. But it was just a black line, straight, letter _I_ or maybe _L._ It’s just – it was so _black,_ y’know?”

 A black line – that reminded him of –

 “Could it have been a number?” He heard himself ask. “Number One.” Of all the questions, he didn’t know why he’d asked this, or why he suddenly thought of that man in the sewer, with a tattooed number _two_ on his forehead.

 “Huh. Yeah, that’d work too.” Dio nodded to himself.

 “Where did he go?” Aerith asked. Dio shrugged, the manic grin returning to his face.

 “Oh, I have no idea.”

 “When was this, though?”

 “Just moments ago.”

 “So he could still be –”

 Cloud looked around, fervent; a glimpse of a black cloak – his silver hair – but there were so many people.

 But Sephiroth was here, somewhere. They were so close. Cloud felt his heartbeats again, only it wasn’t like the last time; heavy, echoing, lethal.

-

 Cloud and Aerith wandered through the endless strings of people, eyes so strained that they had started to hurt. Cloud barely noticed the sign on the gate as they walked into yet another colorful game-zone, in search of Sephiroth. _Wonder Square._ It didn’t really matter what it was called, though; he was getting more and more anxious, imagining Sephiroth slipping away, between his fingers again. A blink, then he was gone; like the last time. He couldn’t let that happen.

 The color theme of this square was deep blue, rolling waves of indigo and azure like the sea, or night. As soon as they entered, though, a squeaky voice called from behind them.

 “Hey, you! What’re you lookin’ so down for?”

 Cloud really wanted to ignore this and move on, but the voice was insistent. Now other people were turning their way too, wondering what the commotion was. So Cloud and Aerith finally had to turn around and face –

 It wasn’t a weird man in a patched-up clown suit, but it was – in fact, not a man at all. Cloud stared at a blinking cat-shaped toy for a while, wondering what he could say.

 “A talking cat,” Aerith said from beside him.

 “A talking toy cat,” Cloud amended. The cat wheeled around, bouncing up and down. It was sitting on a large, robotic moogle that even blinked mechanically from time to time. Cloud first thought it – he – was like Red XIII, but soon realized that it wasn’t. It was a machine, not a living species of talking animals.

 “How ‘bout it?” The cat said, when Cloud didn’t say anything for a while. “Want me to read your fortune? A bright future! A happy future!”

 “Fortune? No –”

 “Oh, yeah!” The cat cut him off. “I’m a fortune telling machine! The name’s Cait Sith.” The cat bounced excitedly; it was making Cloud dizzy, just listening to it talk, and it reminded him of Yuffie a little too.

 “You can only read the future?” Aerith said. Cloud didn’t know why she was humoring Cait Sith, but Aerith threw him a look that said something (girls with their looks, seriously, did they expect him to understand everything?); so Cloud watched, silent and impatient.

 Cait Sith laughed. “You kidding? I can find missing things, missing people, anything!”

 “Okay, then – tell us where a man named Sephiroth is.”

 “Sephiroth?” Cait Sith did a funny twirl mid-air. “Okay, here goes!”

 Cloud didn’t _really_ believe that the talking cat-machine had real fortune telling powers, but he still felt a tiniest flutter of anxiety as Cait Sith bounced about, muttering something under his breath.

 A tiny square piece of paper was printed out from the white moogle’s mouth. Cloud tore it off.

 “Ordinary luck. Give into the good will of others, and something big will happen after summer… wait, what’s this?”

 The tiniest flutter died, miserably, in his chest. Cait Sith snatched away the paper from Cloud’s hands, surprisingly fast.

 “Sorry, wrong paper! Let me try again – and – here!”

 Another paper. Cloud glared at the toy cat but read the paper; Cait Sith would just chase him around until he read it, anyway.

 “Be careful of forgetfulness. Lucky color: blue.”

 The strangest thing. Here was a fleeting image of a smile; it was blue, light blue and cerulean and aquamarine all mixed into one indescribable shade of blue. Eyes? The color of the sky?

 But it passed to quickly to hold down into a memory. Almost like it never happened at all, like a blink of an eye you didn’t remember.

 “ – Forget it,” Cloud turned away, feeling slightly dizzy. But Cait Sith shrieked behind him, “Wait, wait, wait! Give me another chance! The last chance!”

 Cloud forced himself to look back. There was already another paper rolling out. He sighed, as he snatched it up. “Last time.”

 Then he read,

  _What you pursue will be yours. But you will lose something dear._

 Cloud looked up, suddenly feeling something heavy in his chest. The first thing he saw were Aerith’s eyes. She was smiling, a little puzzled, a little worried. He had to control his expression – but what was this, this premonition?  
 “What, what is it?” Cait Sith asked. Cloud gave the paper to him, absently. It was stupid; of course he would lose something dear. He’d prepared for it. Anyone could say it, just some generic line that could be interpreted however you liked.

 “Hmm,” Cait Sith said. “This is the first time I ever got something like _this._ ”

 “It doesn’t mean anything,” Cloud shrugged. Tried to sound nonchalant. He didn’t meet Aerith’s eyes.

 “Well, then, shall we?” Cait Sith said, his tone returning to chirpy. Cloud blinked; all thoughts of the ominous fortune temporarily left his brain.

 “Shall we _what_? What are you talking about?”

 “As a fortune teller, I can’t help but think about what this means,” Cait Sith explained, like he was explaining something very rudimental to a child. “If I don’t see where it leads, I won’t be able to sleep at nights.”

 “Do you even sleep?” Aerith asked, amused laughter in her voice.

 “Not the point. So, anyway, that’s why I’m gonna go with you!”

 “No,” Cloud said and turned around. He walked fast, Aerith following close behind. Not that it did anything; Cait Sith was just as fast on his flying moogle, and very _loud._

 “Hey! I’m comin’ with you no matter _what_ you say –!”

 And he really did; they couldn’t shake him off. He was there whenever Cloud looked back, with his moogle and his squeaky voice. Nothing, _nothing_ they did could throw it off. Cloud realized that nothing _will_ , short of crushing it – and he didn’t want to do that. So, after an hour, he finally gave up.

 “It’s cute, isn’t it?” Aerith laughed, glancing back at Cait Sith.

 “I’m glad you’re enjoying this, at least,” Cloud muttered.

 He was already starting to forget about that piece of paper. It probably meant nothing – just his frayed senses overreacting. Cloud was weary of the possibility that it had been a ruse by Cait Sith, so he could follow them, but for what reason? Anyway, he had other things to worry about.

 Cloud did his cursory glance at the gate. _Battle Square._ It was one of the last ones, and he walked in with Aerith, Cait Sith tagging along a few steps back. He had a rush of nausea as the smell hit him first. Didn’t register right away, though; what he saw first was blue. The familiar helmet of a Shinra infantryman.

 He almost started turning back, but something was off; too quiet; there was no music in this zone. No one at the front hall, but one Shinra soldier sitting slumped on a chair.

 “What is Shinra doing here?” Aerith whispered, but in the sudden silence it rang too clearly.

 And then Cloud realized what the smell was, seeing the blood pooled around the soldier’s legs. The color theme of this zone was red. Crimson red that burned the eyes. The blood of the soldier was only a shade darker, hardly noticeable.

 “He’s dead,” Cloud said.

 “What?”

 “He’s –”

 A waft of wind, where it shouldn’t be; and Cloud smelled this also, this coarse _thing_ that curled and nestled in his nose and brain. He was running up the stairs in a second, pushing doors open. He barely heard Aerith and Cait Sith following him. The door to the main hall was open. Cloud stopped dead in front of so many – dead.

 He couldn’t even count them all. Shinra soldiers, employees of the Gold Saucer. The room was eerily quiet; had taken death, to silence the amusement park. It was heavy and metallic from all the blood. And Cloud just stared at them all.

 He heard Aerith gasp, when she finally arrived. “Did… did Sephiroth do this?” She asked, voice hushed.

 Cloud forced himself to look closer; his breaths were coming quickly. He never really liked red; red dried out blue like fire evaporating water.

 “No – it’s not him,” he said, taking a deep breath (smell of blood –), wondering if he should be relieved that it wasn’t Sephiroth, at least. “They’ve all been shot. Sephiroth doesn’t use guns.”

 Just then, there was a moan; so small that Cloud thought he had imagined it at first. Cloud hurried over to the sound. One of the Gold Saucer worker was still alive, but he knew that she didn’t have a chance anymore. She was clutching at the hole in her chest, gulping out blood. She saw Cloud kneel in front of her and her eyes went round, desperate, hopeful, desolate. Cloud thought he might burst, but he held her gaze.

 “Who did this to you?”

 “A…” The woman swallowed, coughed, bled. “A man… with a gun… on his arm…”

 “On his arm?” Cloud heard Aerith ask, voice fearful. But no way; there was no way that…

 “For… _For_ his arm. A gun for his…” Her eyes started drifting. Cloud thought of Jessie, because she had the same eyes. It was happening all over again; but he didn’t look away.

 “Hold it right there!” A sudden voice boomed. Cloud shot up his head, only to find several security guards pointing their guns at them.

 There were too many; a dead-end. Cloud got up quickly, hands in the air. “It wasn’t us, we found –”

 “Shut up!” One of the guards yelled, his voice frantic; afraid. Cloud realized what they must look like now, among so many corpses, drenched in blood.

 “Oh, no, it’s gonna get ugly…” Cait Sith squeaked. He tried to flee, then, bouncing on his moogle. One of the guards reacted impulsively, swinging the butt of his gun straight for Cait Sith. Cloud could see that he was going to break him, the toy-machine, and before he knew it he was running towards them, grabbing and pulling the cat out of the way. The gun came down on Cloud instead. A blow to the head; he wasn’t going to die – SOLDIERS were more resilient than that – but still he cursed himself as he felt himself falling unconscious, fast. Risking his life for a fraud of a fortune telling machine. A toy cat. It was probably a very stupid thing to do.

 Except, he couldn’t have borne it if Cait Sith had been crushed in front of him. That was sort of like a death, wasn’t it? Even if he _was_ a machine. And Cloud had had enough of death for a while, now. He was just tired.

 That was his last thought.


	16. 15 Gravity

15\. Gravity

 

 “You all right?”

 A déjà vu. Aerith’s voice was the first to pull him out from unconsciousness, again. Cloud forced open his eyes, but had to close them again hastily; the after-image of a bright glow in the sky – the sun – rang loud against his eyelids. There was a sun, which meant that there was a sky – ashen blue, slightly gray – which meant that they were now outside.

 Cloud remembered everything suddenly, like a switch being turned on. He sat up quickly, head ringing, and opened his eyes again. The guards. Cait Sith. Blood. Lots of blood, someone’s dying green eyes – dead – all of this was becoming too familiar too quickly.

 Cloud looked around himself. The land was bare under a high sky. Lots of sand, rocks, and scattered buildings here and there that were a little too far away from each other, standing separately, all of them. But there was a large wire fence surrounding the whole patch of land, stretching out left and right, bigger than his eyes could see.

 “Where are we?”

 “A desert prison,” Cait Sith answered. So he hadn’t died, after all. “Corel Prison. And, by the way, Cloud, thank you. You saved me.”

 “How’d you know my name?”

 “Aerith told me.”

 The toy cat looked a little sheepish, even though his expression didn’t (couldn’t) change much. Cloud stared at him for a moment, feeling the distant thud against his skull. It was fading fast, as all injuries did for SOLDIERS, but he thought he still felt blood particles rushing in the wrong direction.

 “Don’t thank me,” he eventually said, turning away. “Didn’t mean to.”

 “Oh, but…” Cait Sith paused. “Wait, what do you mean, _didn’t mean to_?”

 “It means –”

 “It means that Cloud is such a good person,” Aerith said, smiling sweetly at Cait Sith. If toy cats could blush, Cloud thought, Cait Sith would be blushing right now. “That he saved you without thinking about it.”

 “Oh,” Cait Sith started bouncing again. “Wow – you’re amazing, Cloud!”

 A wind carried a swirl of sand around his ankles and wrists. Some got tangled in Aerith’s hair.

 “So, a desert prison?” Cloud asked, before Cait Sith could continue with his awkward praises.

 “Yes. It’s a natural prison in the middle of the desert. It’s completely surrounded by quicksand –I heard that once you get inside, you never get out.”

 Cloud thought it was odd how Cait Sith said all that with the same cheerful voice; maybe because he was a machine, but he thought there was something else. An intent, almost, of a test. Cait Sith was testing him – but for what?

 “Well,” Cloud shifted, blinking out sand-tears. “I hope you heard wrong, then.”

 It was hot here, too; shouldn’t be, in December, but heat crawled up in mirage-shapes and messed with his eyes. The silence stretched, while Aerith sat with her head resting on her knees, and Cait Sith scuttled around them like an over-anxious child.

 And then he saw a group of people coming their way, from afar. Cloud narrowed his eyes; the sun was burrowing in his head, blocking the view, elongating shadows. Then he recognized a smaller shadow, nimble feet sliding across the desert sand and the unmistakable red, fiery tail.

 “Is that Red XIII?” Aerith said beside him, sounding incredulous.

 “I think so.”

 The shadows got bigger. He recognized the others too, Tifa’s quick strides, Yuffie dragging her feet like the heat was grabbing her ankles in a physical force. Cloud didn’t know what they were doing here, but Aerith had seen them too (so it wasn’t a desert mirage), so he waited. No Barret, though. This thought was nagging at him for something, but he couldn’t figure out why.

 “Fancy meetin’ you here, Cloud! Aerith!” Yuffie said, as soon as they were near enough to hear. Aerith smiled, as if they had really accidentally run across each other in a local flower market.

 “How did you end up here?” Cloud asked Tifa, who was looking at Cait Sith with wide, wondering eyes. Cait Sith was – he was squirming half-hidden behind his back, as if he was _embarrassed._ Cloud sighed.

 “Oh, that’s Cait Sith. He followed us.”

 As soon as he made the introduction, Cait Sith jumped out from behind him and squeaked – in a voice not unlike the ringing, ruthless sunlight. “Good to meet you, ladies! I am world’s best fortune telling machine!”

 Yuffie snorted.

 “To answer your question,” Tifa said, tearing her eyes from Cait Sith. “The guards came looking for us. Someone had seen us with you guys, and they figured we were accomplices.”

 “Oh,” Cloud thought the color of the desert sand was dizzying, dancing in differing shades of orange and brown. He closed his eyes for a second. “Did you explain… that we’re not actually… I mean, we didn’t …”

 “We tried,” Red XIII said. “But they did not listen.”

 “So is it true?” Tifa said, anxious. “They said that the people were all shot by –” She didn’t dare finish the question. Cloud hesitated, and the short silence was a crushing weight. Tifa’s face fell.

 “Where’s Barret?” Cloud eventually said. Nobody answered.

-

 The security guards at the amusement park came at him suddenly, abruptly, and the next thing he knew: he was strolling around in the dirty heat of some desert prison. Figures.

 It was only after some time that Barret heard the whispers among his fellow inmates (who didn’t come near him, wise guys). Apparently there was a whole bunch of new inmates, three girls and a blond boy, and who else could it be but his own damn group? Barret wanted to sigh. How they’d made it here was beyond him. Barret had left them even before they went inside the amusement park, so they couldn’t have pegged them as his accomplices… but if anyone could get into trouble in such short time, it was Cloud. Barret walked a little bit faster. He’d have to take care of his business before they all got too involved. And then – and then he will think about everything else later.

 This prison wasn’t like normal prison. It was more like a big town, only all the townspeople were criminals. There were houses and even jobs, and everything. Even a few families here and there. A lot of the folks were here for life, but they weren’t so torn about it either. A lot of them had nowhere else to go. Except for the heat, and the fact that you couldn’t travel anywhere else, it was as decent place as any.

 And there was a hierarchy, like any group of people had. The top man was called Boss. He ruled this little world, so he heard, and he ruled by fear. It was this Boss that Barret was interested in. He had spotted him in the amusement park, followed him and seen what he’d done. And if it were anyone else – but it wasn’t, and he had business to settle. He had a nagging guilt about Cloud – maybe someone _had_ seen Barret with them, and they were here because of him. But still; this had to be done. And apparently the Boss knew the way out of this prison, seeing how he was in the park, so Barret would get them out later, too. Later.

 But he figured that he would have to talk to them first, now that they were here. They weren’t hard to spot; hell, with that golden hair sticking out like that –

 They were under a tree-shadow in the middle of nowhere, probably near where they first came in. Barret walked over to them quickly, and before anyone had anything to say, “You gotta stay out of this one,” he told them. He expected a disapproving frown from Cloud, an attempt at persuasion from Tifa, but what answered him was something unexpected.

 “Just hold on for a second!” Said an unfamiliar, squeaky voice. “We just want to talk!”

 Barret squinted his eyes at the thing that spoke. It looked like a cat – but it was talking, and floating a few centimeters above the ground.

 “An’ who the hell are you?”

 “I’m Cait Sith,” the cat started, but Barret just shook his head. He wasn’t interested.

 “Whatever,” he said. “Just wanted to say that. Just… don’t want none of ya to get involved.”

 There. He’d said it. He watched them a little to see if that had sunk in. For a while nobody said anything; until Aerith started to laugh, a soft chuckle, that got them all thrown because Barret expected a reproach and everyone else expected – he didn’t know what they expected, actually. They had all been looking at him funny, come to think of it.

 And Aerith explained her laughter, saying, “That’s Cloud’s line, though. _It’s too dangerous and I can’t get you involved._ ” Her imitation of Cloud was (strangely enough) pretty similar, which left Tifa sputtering and Yuffie giggling.

 “Yeah,” Cloud said frowning a little confusedly. “We’re already involved in this, like it or not.”

 “Just tell us what’s going on,” Tifa said, all trace of laughter gone.

 Barret was cornered; there was no way out now. Not if they came at him like this.

 “We know that wasn’t you,” Aerith said suddenly. “Who shot everyone like that.”

 And then Barret knew why they’d all looked at him funny, when he first came in. They must have heard that the culprit was a man with a gun-arm, and who else did they know that had a gun for an arm? Their suspicions were reasonable.

 Aerith had spoken with conviction, a mysterious authority, but not everybody seemed so convinced. Yuffie was eying him with open distrust. Tifa looked like she wanted to be sure, but she was cautious enough not to be. Cloud was – who knew what Cloud was thinking, but he was waiting; now Barret would have to tell them. Tell them everything.

 In a way, though, he was relieved. He laughed, suddenly, feeling a little tired.

 “No,” he said. “That’s another… another man that got a gun grafted into one of his arms.”

 Half-truths were lies, too. He’d told half the story to them earlier. Now for the rest, “It was four years ago.”

Barret remembered; he was on his way home from visiting his friend out of town, with Dyne. The three of them had been tight ever since they were tiny boys, always planned to get out the coal mining town when they got old and all that. Of course, Coates had been the only one with the guts enough to actually do that. And now he was married to an accountant girl in Midgar.

“Midgar! Can you believe that, Dyne? Coates, that old fool!” Barret laughed, and Dyne chuckled too.

 “Oh, I feel sorry for that nice young lady already.”

 “She seem nice, don’t she? Wonder what she saw in him…”

 Dyne was just about to say something that surely would have knocked Barret out laughing, because he was funny like that, but he never got the chance to find out. The village headman was running towards them. Something on his face made Barret forget everything else; the panic, the urgency, the tragedy. Dyne stiffened beside him too.

 “What’s wrong?” Dyne asked first. The headman was shouting, old as he was and out of breath.

 “Barret! Dyne! Come quick! The village’s being attacked! It’s Shinra soldiers…”

“What?” Barret went cold. Then he saw the flames and the smokes; why he hadn’t before, he didn’t know. Because the smoke was everywhere. Or maybe the old man had brought it with him – or maybe he thought he saw – “What the hell happened?” Barret asked, even as he started running. He could hear Dyne following closely behind. Every thought was crushed inside his head, in an explosion like volcano. The old man never had a chance to answer.

Guns fired; they had to duck. One look and Barret knew it was hopeless. The Shinra soldiers, crowding in the middle of the town like a swarm of cockroaches; they were outnumbered, as well as hopelessly out-powered. Barret and Dyne didn’t even have weapons.

“What the hell you doin’?” Barret yelled at the soldiers, but none of them answered. Of course they didn’t. Dyne tugged at him suddenly, with such force, and Barret felt the breath leave him in a gulp. The gunshots; right over their heads, drumming and poking inside his ears.

“Dyne –”

Something was wrong. They had ducked in time, but Dyne kept falling. Barret saw with horror that behind them was a cliff, its fences destroyed by gunshots. The old man was lying dead somewhere to the left, he didn’t know when that had happened, and now Dyne was falling too.

Barret reached out his right hand and grabbed Dyne’s left. He had to flatten himself on the ground, and he felt rocks scratch his side and stomach, drawing blood.

“Dyne, hang on!” He yelled. But even then the gunshots were getting closer. The small rocks beside where he lay flickered and sparked when they hit. It was a miracle that he hadn’t been shot (although he might have, he could hardly feel for every sense was in his right arm) already. “Listen to me, you’re comin’ back to the village, you hear? You… Eleanor and Marlene… they’re waiting…” Barret didn’t know what he was saying. He was chanting, almost, praying, though he’d never seriously believed in God. He didn’t care what happened to himself, the stupid fool who’d ruined everything for the village, but Dyne had to live. But now the bullets had gotten too close.

One hit his right hand, another hit Dyne’s left. Searing pain blinded him for a second; he didn’t like to think he’d let go but he did – he must have. The last he saw of Dyne through blurry eyes was his confused face, like he didn’t really get what was happening, which was up and which down. Blood from his left arm sprouted and dotted the air like damn flower petals – Barret rolled over to avoid another shower of bullets, and there was only one thought ringing in his head.

Whoever had done this was going to pay. With blood. Like damn flower petals, if he could.

“From then on, my right arm was useless. I threw away my artificial arm and got this gun grafted in instead,” Barret lifted his gun-arm. It was a giant thing; at first, almost too heavy to walk straight, mighty and awkward. But he’d born it like he’d sworn to born revenge, the sin, and those things were heavy anyway. “So,” Barret continued. He hardly knew what he was saying anymore. “Got a new right arm to get revenge on the Shinra. They took everything away.”

“What – what happened to Dyne?” Tifa asked, carefully. Barret had never told this story to Tifa, as long as they’d known each other and as much as he was grateful to her.

“I always figured he’d – you know, that fall, he couldn’t have survived. But then, a few years back, I met my Doc again and he says – he says there was another man who got the same operation as me. But his was the left arm.”

“And does that mean that Dyne was the one who killed everyone like that?” Red XIII said, not wasting any time. Barret flinched, felt like he had to get indignant on Dyne’s behalf.

Except, it was probably true.

“We… we don’t know anythin’ for certain,” he said instead. “I just gotta make sure. And I gotta apologize to Dyne, and…”

“And what if he was the one?” Cloud asked. Barret couldn’t make out what he was thinking. “The one who’d done it all. What will you do, then?”

There was a short silence. Then, finally, “I gotta do what I gotta do.”

“Well,” Cloud shook his head, looking a little – Barret didn’t know what, _sad,_ or amused, even. “I can’t let you go alone.”

Barret frowned. “Like hell you can’t. You can’t order me around.”

“You can’t stop us either, though!” Yuffie said. “If we follow you, I mean. You can’t shoot us down or somethin’.” Then, seeing Barret’s expression, she added a little hesitantly, “Right?”

“Why you wanna tag along for?” Barret growled. “I gotta talk to Dyne, and it ain’t none of yer businesses.”

“We won’t get in the way,” Aerith chimed in, and Barret couldn’t say anything _bad_ to her face (who could?), and maybe she knew that.

“If you die on me,” Cloud said suddenly. “I’ll have nightmares.”

This was so unexpected that Barret couldn’t help snorting a laughter, although Cloud’s face remained impassive. But then, the boy never smiled. “The hell you will.”

“I will,” Cloud said, with conviction. Barret was at a loss for words.

And finally he just shrugged and nodded. If they said they won’t interfere, they won’t.

-

 Cloud wondered if he really _would_ have nightmares, if Barret died. His nights were all accounted for anyway, so maybe not. But then, that was what he’d told Barret, so maybe he would take up a silent place in his nightmares, staring reproachfully, adding weight to his sins and regrets. He wouldn’t feel it for how heavy it was already, though.

 “Dyne, is that you?” Barret was asking now. The rest of them stood far back, so as not to interfere, but if Dyne – if that was him – started shooting, they would be close enough to save a life or two. They were far enough away that they couldn’t even hear what they were saying. Except for Cloud, of course, who couldn’t help but hear, with his Mako-enhanced senses. He looked at the man leaning against the wired fence; eyes narrow and wild, long and messy auburn hair. White as a ghost, with a tinge of gray in his skin.

 “Now that’s a voice I haven’t heard in years,” Dyne said. He turned his head slowly and squinted to focus his eyes on Barret. There was something off about the way he was casting his looks all around. Then he started forward, slowly and a little wobbly, but Barret didn’t flinch.

“Listen, Dyne –” Barret took a step forward. There was a gunshot; Cloud saw Tifa almost run out, but it was only a warning shot, near Barret’s feet. Barret had to stop. He stared at the dissipating smoke of gunshot in front of him.

 “What’s that?” Dyne spat, a mad glint in his eyes. “I hear her voice.”

 The look; Sephiroth – the thing was, with madness like theirs, everyone else had to pay the price as well.

 “Whose voice?” Barret asked.

 “I hear her voice. Eleanor,” Dyne murmured. Cloud almost didn’t hear it, but then he shook his head and looked at Barret straight. “Beggin’ me not to hate your rotten guts. That’s why I didn’t hunt you down. And now I’m tellin’ you, Barret –” He was almost laughing, crying, shaking his head and the gun in his arm looked too unstable, too ready to go off. “To get the hell out, before I decide to ignore my dead wife.”

 “I know I was stupid,” Barret started, slowly. Cloud couldn’t see his face. “An’ I ain’t askin’ you to forgive me. But – but what’re you doin’ here? Why’d you kill all those people that ain’t even involved? Why?”

 “Why?” Dyne snorted. But that glint was gone – or Cloud was simply too far away to see – and his eyes had returned to dull brown, searching, wandering. “The hell you care for? Are the people killed gonna understand _why_? Hell, I don’t _care_ what the reason is!”

 “Dyne –”

 “What’s left is a world,” Dyne raised his voice, hysterical and mad, and the others could probably hear it now too. Cloud saw Aerith sitting forward, completely still, the expression on her face unreadable. “A world – of despair, and emptiness. Destroy everything. What difference does it make? I got nothing left in his world. Corel, Eleanor, Marlene…”

 “Wait, Dyne,” Barret had to yell a little bit too, to be heard over Dyne’s voice. “Marlene’s still alive!”

 That stopped Dyne. Barret took a cautious step forward.

 “I went back into the town. Then I found Marlene… She’s in Midgar nw. Let’s go see her together, alright?”

 “She’s alive?” Dyne blinked, dazed. His gun-arm dropped and hung limp by his side.

 Barret stepped a little bit closer. But then, without a warning, Dyne started firing; the gunshots shook the ground, and Barret leapt back, barely avoiding being shot. The shots left a smoking chain on the sand between them, almost like a border. The firing stopped, and they looked at each other.

 “It wasn’t just my arm,” Dyne said. “Back then. I lost something irreplaceable. I don’t know where I went wrong.”

 “Dyne, I – I don’t know either, man,” Barret said, voice thick. “Is this the only way?”

 “I told you I wanted to destroy everything,” Dyne said, nodding to himself like it was a satisfying explanation. “This crazy world. Myself.”

 Barret swallowed. “An’ what about Marlene? What’s gonna happen to her?”

 “She doesn’t know me anyway,” Dyne said, smiled. “Doesn’t remember me, she was so small.” Then Dyne fell two, three steps behind. He was standing dangerously close to the edge of the cliff now. Barret made to get to him, but Dyne held up his hand. “And what’s more, Barret,” another step back. Barret seemed to be paralyzed, and the rest of them were, too; they could only watch. “These hands are a little too stained to carry Marlene anymore.”

 He grabbed something from his neck, a necklace with a small silver pendant, and tossed it to Barret. He stumbled some more, in the process. Now his left foot was halfway in the air.

 Barret caught the pendant and stared at it; Cloud couldn’t see the picture inside from here, but he could guess.

 “Dyne,” Barret said. Dyne shook his head.

 “How old his Marlene now, Barret?”

 “She’s four. Four years old, Dyne.”

 “Give that pendant to her,” Dyne said. Barret nodded. “And find Old Man Mars. He’ll take you up to the Saucer. Tell him Dyne sent you. If he doesn’t believe that, show him the pendant.”

 Before Barret could answer, or do anything (though there was nothing he could have done), Dyne had stepped backwards, decisive and purposeful. His foot stepped on air; his body seemed to be flying, for a second, and then he fell backwards. Gravity grabbed hold of him and Cloud thought it must be quite fast, how a human body falls.

 


	17. Zack

16\. Zack

 

_“‘Cause the sad sad side of it all is you don’t remember_

_Being a breath away from death, the sad sad side of it all_

_And maybe, on a different day I’d let the rain wash this away_

_But it’s just too late.”_

From _Different Day_ by _State of Shock_

-

 The forest surrounding Gongaga was dense, preserved in ancient greens like no human had ever been inside it. Or – the forests had consumed anyone who had. Had the vines creep up to the ankles, pull them in and twist, make them lost to the humid green –

 Cloud stopped himself. It wasn’t exactly a cheerful thought. The heat was really getting under his skin, though; he took a step over the writhing roots on the forest floor. A drop of sweat trickled down his temple.

 “The damn fly!” Barret was trying to swat a fly that kept buzzing around his ears and eyes.

 “Wait,” Cloud said, holding up a hand. Everyone stopped walking. “There’s someone not far up ahead.”

 Or at least he thought there was, but his senses were duller than usual, squirming against the stifling heat. Cloud wiped the sweat from his forehead, walked past Red XIII who’d been in the lead. Motioning to the rest of them to be quiet, he crept his way deeper into the forest.

 There was a large clearing not far off, where trees had abruptly cut off, and there was someone there – no, two people, Cloud amended, as one suddenly strolled into view (hiding behind a bush, it was a narrow window).

 “Rude! Tell me the truth.”

 Red hair, sticking out in all directions, with a long thin ponytail at the back; Cloud recognized that hair (it was hard not to). _Reno._ The Turk that Cloud had pushed out of the helicopter once. Looked like he’d recovered now.

 Reno was wearing the Turk’s uniform, but hadn’t bothered to tuck in the shirt, was slouching, leaning forward on the metal rod that he’d stuck to the ground. Cloud recognized the rod as the Electro-Rod that Shinra had been working on before he left.

 “Tell me, tell me, tell me! What’re you getting so embarrassed about? It was a simple question, man.”

 Rude, standing across from Reno in an imitation of a statue, would not answer.

 “Come on! Uh – Elena?” Reno suggested. Rude shook his head quickly. Reno’s mouth dropped open in mock sympathy. “Nooo? Well, then – poor Elena… she… you…”

 “No,” Rude cleared his throat. “She likes Tseng,” he insisted.

 “Hey, I never knew that –”

 Cloud shook his head to himself. This was one fruitless conversation to listen in, he decided. He started to back away slowly, to find a roundabout way, but about two steps back he stepped on a branch; its crack echoed too loudly in the forest.

 “Hey, who’s there?” Reno turned around at once, sharp and wary. Cloud couldn’t decide what to do for a second, but in any case it was decided for him because now the rest of his group had arrived too, Barret moving too loudly and conspicuously to just sneak away. When Reno saw them, his entire face transformed in a transparent glee. “Oh, you! You really came!”

 “Correct me if I’m wrong,” Barret said, frowning. “But you actually seem _glad_.”

 “Oh, you have no idea,” Reno grinned, swinging his rod over his shoulder, the other hand in his pants pocket. “It’s been a while, huh? Payback time for what you did in Sector Seven!”

 “Sector Seven?” Cloud said. Reno snorted.

 “Don’t remember, is that it? Now, that’s just _sad_.” He dragged his voice, took a step forward. Cloud _did_ remember, but he kept his face blank. Reno shook his head in exaggerated misery.

 Then, in a flash, Reno and Rude were both coming at Cloud; Cloud barely had time to reach for his sword, but he had to duck Reno’s swinging rod first. It swept over his head (brushing the tip of his hair) faster than he’d expected; faster than it should be, with the weight of the metal and all, but they _were_ the Turks, after all. Cloud managed to evade another swing, but when he twisted sideways, Rude was waiting and he kicked dirt into Cloud’s eyes.

 “Hey, that’s cheating!” He heard Yuffie shout, somewhere distant. Cloud had to close his eyes, eyeballs burning and dizzy and head ringing.

 “Well, we’re the Turks,” Reno said, proudly. “Now if you’ll come – _ouch_!”

 Cloud wanted to see what was going on, but his eyes still smarted and there were tears, and all he could do was blink and stumble blindly. And listen; there was a gunshot.

 “Bearin’ down on one man with two?” Barret roared. “You play dirty.”

 He heard Rude grumble with pain. There was a kick (Tifa’s, Cloud though, judging by the way Reno yelped in surprise), and Reno crashed into the ground, cursing his mouth off.

 Cloud finally got the dirt out. He stood up straight and looked at the scene in front of him. Reno was glaring at Tifa, and Rude was helping Reno up; he hadn’t been shot, but there was a long stain of dirt all over his side.

 “We may be retreating…” Reno said, spitting out dirt. Rude almost got hit by Reno’s rod as he swung it violently over his shoulder. “But we’re still victorious!”

 With that, they scuttled off into the other side of the forest. Cloud didn’t even think about going after them.

 “It’s weird, though,” Aerith said thoughtfully, staring at the place where they’d disappeared. “It was like they knew we were coming.”

 “Yeah, didn’t he say – _you really came_?” Tifa said, brushing off dirt from herself.

 “They were definitely waiting for us,” Red XIII said.

 “I don’t like it!” Yuffie decided, huffing. “It’s like the whole world knows where we are.”

 “Did they follow us?” Cloud said, but he hadn’t noticed any signs. It was like someone was watching them – from above, beneath, or –

 “You don’t think there’s a spy, do you, Cloud?” Cait Sith squealed. “I hate this. Now everyone’s gonna blame me, ‘cause I’m new.”

 Cloud looked at the toy cat. “No,” he finally said, feeling leftover tears in the corner of his eyes from the dirt. “I don’t.”

 Or he didn’t _want_ to, because he’d almost died for that cat. Red XIII growled softly; Cloud knew that they were all thinking the same thing.

-

 Cloud heard the distant rumble of a helicopter first. There was a ruined Mako reactor not far in front, and the helicopter was headed there; they hid themselves just out of sight. Although long abandoned, the stench of Mako was persistent and still lingered in the air. Cloud tried not to notice it so much.

 “Bet they’re Turks again,” Barret whispered. Two people got off from the helicopter; Tseng, and the woman they’d seen after the meeting in the Shinra building, with her striking blond hair and eye-hurting red dress. Red lipstick in the exact shade. Beside her, Tseng looked like a shadow.

 “That woman’s called Scarlet,” Barret said. “Head of Shinra Weapons Development.”

 Cloud decided wondered if the dress had come first, or the name. Scarlet was talking now, her voice steady and authoritative like she was used to everyone to following her orders. “This isn’t any good either. You only get stinky Materia from stinky reactors.”

 Tseng didn’t say anything. Scarlet turned to him, heels clicking together. “This reactor’s a failure. What I’m looking for is a much bigger Materia.”

 “Hm,” Tseng said, looking a little bored. Scarlet wasn’t deterred.

 “If we had a large Materia… we could forge a better weapon. After all, Rufus is… well, with Hojo gone, our department has been getting a bigger budget.” It looked to Cloud like she was trying to be friendly, win him over maybe, but Tseng just looked at her with unnerving, impassive eyes. Scarlet smiled, a tight smile that threatened to crack her lipsticks. “But here we don’t have what we’re looking for. I guess we have to go now.”

 “Alright,” Tseng said. They got into the helicopter, and with leaf-flattening wind, was gone soon.

 “Large Materia? Better weapon?” Barret said, standing up and stretching his back. “Just what is the Shinra up to?”

 “No good,” Yuffie said promptly, her eyes glowing in an unidentifiable emotion. It looked like excitement, almost.

-

 Further into the woods, there was a signpost. It pointed in two directions, the reactor and a village that didn’t seem to have a name. It just read, _village,_ in flailing hand-written letters. They took the left road to the village, and hadn’t gone very far when they came across a tiny cemetery. It was pretty, tightly packed graves in all shapes and sizes with a festival of different-colored flowers that looked fresh. An old man and woman were praying in front of one. As pretty as it was, Cloud wanted to get out quickly. Graves were too solemn and humbling, even though he’d never had any graves he could have prayed in front.

 But just as they were about to leave, the old man was calling him. “Wait.”

 Cloud turned around. He watched the man and woman, who were obviously husband and wife, make their slow, stumbling way to him.

 “Young man,” the man said. “Are you in SOLDIER?”

 Cloud had forgotten that he was still wearing the first-class SOLDIER uniform. He hesitated, but eventually said, “I used to be.”

 The woman gasped at that, a sharp intake of breath. Then she started to say something, but Cloud couldn’t hear it properly; it was odd, how he was transfixed on the handkerchief that the lady was clutching in her hands. Light blue, small daisies around the edges, soft lace. _It’s so girly,_ he’d said to someone – he was sure – and he thought he even remembered the answer: _Well, my mom gave it to me._ But who was that? A fellow SOLDIER? He remembered the laughter right underneath his ribs, a carved-in sensation.

 “… our son?”

 “Sorry?” Cloud took a moment to catch up, blinking at the couple.

 “It’s just,” the woman sighed, that came out close to a sob. “It’s been close to ten years since he left for the city, to be a SOLDIER.”

 The air was dark. The wood was dense and the heat was, too, too many trees surrounding them and blocking the sun. Cloud felt trapped (the old claustrophobia, the one he kept trying to ignore), felt like something was going very wrong. He cleared his throat. “So maybe I know him. What’s his name?”

 “Zack Fair,” the man said, hope in his eyes.

 “Oh!” Aerith gasped behind him.

 As for Cloud, he didn’t know why he heard screaming in his ears, why his hands were slightly shaking. Why he smelled Mako so strongly so far away from the reactor.

 “Zack?” He said to himself, testing, feeling a numbing coldness set in, even though they were still sweating. “Zack –” It didn’t feel familiar, but bitter. “I don’t know anyone named – Zack.”

 But now Zack’s mother was turning to Aerith, desperately, reaching out as if to grab onto her. “Do _you_ know him?”

 Aerith couldn’t speak. Cloud watched, numb and cold and inexplicably hurt. She was now nodding, swallowing thickly.

 “He wrote us about six years ago, said he had a girlfriend. Could it – was it –”

 “Probably… I mean, yes. That would’ve been me – but excuse me, I think I’m just –” Aerith shook her head, looking almost like she felt what Cloud was feeling, and before the couple could say anything, she was hurrying out of the cemetery and soon disappeared behind trees. Cloud braced himself and followed. The screaming. The laughter.

 “Aerith?” He called, looking around. She hadn’t gotten far; she was standing under a big oak tree, and turned to look at him when he came closer. Cloud searched her face for a sign of tears, but there wasn’t any.

 “I’m sorry, that was kind of rude, running off like that,” she said and smiled, a weary smile that Cloud wasn’t used to seeing on Aerith’s face.

 “I think they’d understand,” he said. Then, “So he was your boyfriend?”

 “Yeah, SOLDIER first class, same as you. I didn’t know he came from this town, though. He rarely talked about the past. It was the present, and the future, for him – always –”

 “Yeah,” Cloud said, and realized what he’d said. He didn’t know this Zack, but it sounded like he was agreeing to what Aerith was saying. She didn’t notice anything weird, though.

 “You really don’t know him?” She asked.

 “It’s weird,” he agreed. “There weren’t that many… first class SOLDIERS.” He swallowed. His heart thumped loudly in his head as he asked, “What happened to him?”

 “He went missing,” Aerith said, with a practiced misery. “That’s right – he might’ve gone missing before you joined first class.”

 “Missing?”

 “He went out on a job, and never came back. I waited four years.”

 Cloud didn’t need to say it, because she already knew. Zack’s parents probably did, too. A SOLDIER didn’t just go missing like that – Shinra would do a full man-search (or a _hunt_ , he added in his head, but didn’t know why he did). Zack was probably dead.

 When they went back, Zack’s parents had left. Tifa explained that Zack’s mother was crying so much that her husband had to take her home. Her voice was calm but Cloud knew she was thinking about her own parents.

 “I wonder who they were praying for,” Red XIII said, as they were walking to the village. “They do not have a grave for their son.”

 “God?” Yuffie suggested. Barret mumbled something about there not really being a God.

 “Or maybe they needed to make one,” Cloud said.

 “Make one what?” Tifa asked.

 “Make a grave, in the end. Just a make-believe one.”

-

  _“From where?” He has eyes that are at once amused, wild and fierce. Mako glinting in the blue._

_“Nibelheim.” There is laughter, full-bodied and easy. “How about you?”_

_“Me?” He says with leftover chuckles, points a thumb towards his chest, proudly. “Gongaga. Hey, what’s so funny about that? You know Gongaga?”_

_“No, but it’s such a backwater name.”_

_“Ditto Nibelheim,” he says, grins._

-

Remember?

  _“You’re that voice again. How about telling me who you are?”_

All in good time, _there is amusement in the voice, much like_ he’d _had. But who was_ he _? Who was the voice?_ Now, rest.


	18. Cosmo Canyon

17\. Cosmo Canyon

 

 The old truck that they’d bought in Gongaga (from a farmer too old to drive it anymore) broke down in the middle of the road. It started sputtering, coughing, reminding Cloud of its previous owner. Started shaking uncontrollably, so he had no choice but to kill the engine before it burst into flames. Barret had been sitting at the back of the truck, squinting at the sun and generally being grumpy. He now banged at the back window, yelling, “I thought he said it’d work fine!”

 Cloud shook his head and got out of the truck. It was a clear day, blue sky and endless desert horizon and a few shriveled trees here and there. Brown dirt flew up into the air, danced with the wind. It was also the middle of nowhere.

 He stood for a minute, coping with the heat. He’d never been able to stand heat, growing up in Nibelheim where winter was half the year and sunny days were rarity. Weather was strange; it had been strange ever since October. It didn’t get cold like it was supposed to.

 “I _knew_ he was lying, that old fart,” Yuffie snorted. She looked comfortable in the heat, the desert, but then maybe she always was.

 “But we had no choice,” Cloud muttered, going around the back to check the engines. It _had_ looked fine before, when they were buying.

 “Oh, I know,” Aerith said, with her chin on her folded hands, looking out from the truck. “It was a distraction.”

 “What was?” Tifa asked. She looked about as tired as Cloud, but was bearing it more gracefully.

 “Remember he kept talking about his sons and daughters in Midgar?” Aerith laughed. “He was trying to distract Cloud from looking too closely at the engines.”

 “Yeah,” Cloud agreed, bitter. “It’s no good. I can fix it, but I need tools we don’t have.”

 There was a short silence while everyone contemplated a slow, dried-out death in the desert.

 Then, Red XIII said, “There is a town not far from here.”

 Cloud turned his head. “You mean Gongaga?”

 “But even if we go back –” Tifa started to say, but Red XIII shook his head. His fire-tail flickered from side to side.

 “It is hidden. The sacred town of Cosmo Canyon. They have a mechanic there.” He didn’t wait for the reply, and started running towards the large rocky mountains in the distance, the only thing there was for miles around.

 “Hey, wait! Don’t go so fast,” Yuffie complained, but started running anyway, catching up to Red XIII quickly.

 “Where do you think you’re going?” Cloud said to Barret, as he made to follow Aerith and Tifa. Barret looked back.

 “What?”

 “We have to drag the truck,” Cloud said, wishing for a cool drink of water.

 Barret cursed, very colorfully.

-

 The entrance to the town was carefully concealed behind trees and rocks at the base of the mountains.

 “Leave the truck here,” Red XIII told them, and started making his way through the curves of the rocks and thick branches. Barret wiped his sweat from his forehead. It looked like he didn’t even have the energy for a snarky remark anymore. It was the desert near Gongaga, and they’d been pulling and pushing a truck across it, but still it wasn’t normal to be sweating in December. Cloud glanced up at the sun, shining innocently in the spotless blue sky.

 When Red XIII got closer, a man suddenly appeared out of nowhere. Cloud blinked, trying to see where he’d come from, but the shades were too deep.

 “Gatte,” Red XIII greeted, voice unchanging, purring and with a slight echo. The man’s eyes went wide.

 “Nanaki!” He said. “You’re safe – come on, you have to go see Bugenhagen – we’ve all been so worried about you!”

 “Nanaki?” Cloud said, even as Red XIII leapt across rocks to the border of the hidden village. Gatte turned to them, smiling placidly and bowing his head forward.

 “Welcome to Cosmo Canyon,” he said. “Are you familiar with this land?”

 “Well – no,” Cloud said, looking back at the others. Yuffie was gaping at the place where Red XIII had disappeared to, Tifa was wiping the sweat off her forehead.

 “I thought not. Well, let me explain a little bit,” Gatte said. “People from all over the world gather here to seek the Study of Planet Life.”

 “So… it’s like a – spiritual thing?” Yuffie said, narrowing her eyes.

 “You could say,” Gatte said, voice even and calm. It reminded Cloud of some people he’d known back in SOLDIERS; they were also calm, collected, in a bloody and violent way – their religion had been Shinra. Never wrong. Gatte continued, “We wouldn’t normally let you in, since we are full at the moment. But you are here with Nanaki. So please, come in.” He stepped aside to let them in. Cloud could see the cleverly concealed opening more clearly when he’d taken a few steps.

 “Who is – Nanaki?” Tifa asked.

 The man looked a little confused, but politely inclined his head. “Nanaki is the one you came with. That is his name.”

 “You mean Red?” Yuffie jumped, face distorting in either excitement or betrayal. “ _That’s_ his real name?”

 “Why didn’t he tell us?” Aerith wondered. Barret grumbled incoherently like he didn’t care one way or another; Cloud secretly agreed, feeling the drops of sweat rolling down the side of his face.

 “Let’s go and ask him,” he said, and Gatte led them through rocks and maze-like jungles to Cosmo Canyon.

-

 When they finally arrived at the outskirts of the town (after so many twists and turns and back-tracks that it all made Cloud’s head spin wildly), Red – no, Nanaki – was waiting for them.

 “This is my hometown,” he said, jumping off from a rock he had been perched on. “My tribe were the protectors of these people.”

 “Protectors?” Yuffie said. Then, frowning, “But why didn’t you tell us your real name?”

 Nanaki brushed past Yuffie in a fluid blur of red, didn’t answer her question.

 “You said – your tribe _were_ the protectors?” Aerith asked, following his shape with her eyes. Nanaki paused, nodded.

 “Yes. My brave mother fought and died here, and my cowardly father left her. I am the last of my race.”

 “Me too,” Aerith said, with no particular inflection. Cloud wondered what she was thinking. “At least, that’s what Hojo’s told me.”

 “Cowardly father?” Barret said, wincing. “Ain’t that a little harsh?”

 Nanaki looked at Barret, and made a noise that sounded like a snort. “No. My father was a wastrel.”

 “Does this mean –” Tifa said, hesitant. “That you won’t be traveling with us in the future?”

 There was a short silence. Not even Yuffie dared break it; the wind, the humid drops in the air, the shades and the sun – Nanaki nodded.

 “This is the end of my journey. My mission is to protect this place.”

 “Then –”

 Yuffie started to say something, but Nanaki interrupted her, leaping easily onto a rock that was twice his height. “Stay in town for a while,” he said. “I’ll ask someone to fix your car.”

 With that, he leapt onto another rock, down the road, and disappeared into the village.

  _Your_ car; so that was the answer.

 This was to be the first goodbye, but there would be more. Cloud thought he was ready for them; had never been any other way, had never thought to find something that could last forever. Still, he wasn’t very good at goodbyes.

 The solemnity was catching. Yuffie bit her lips and ran after Nanaki (they had developed a strange camaraderie almost instantly, Cloud thought), and Barret grumbled something about finding a shade.

 “You coming, Cloud?” Tifa said, looking back at the entrance of the town. She was trying to be casual about it all; then he remembered, she hadn’t been that good with goodbyes either. Cloud shook his head.

 “You two go on ahead. I’ll catch up. Gotta talk to the mechanic.”

 Tifa and Aerith nodded. Aerith took Cait Sith in one hand and they left, and Cloud was left alone.

 Alone; it felt like forever ago that he was last alone, although he had been alone most of his life. He had preferred it that way. Loneliness grew, nested, became his friend. Thoughts that went round and round, chasing their own tails – he couldn’t remember why he’d liked it so much. Alone. It was so quiet.

 He walked into the village, slowly, looking around at the town. There were some people out and about, but they were all very quiet, calm, polite and graceful. The entire village seemed almost transparent, existing in some other layer of reality where ugliness couldn’t touch. The buildings here merged with the trees and rocks and earth. The sun was half-hidden by the canopy a little further in, and a cool breeze chilled his forehead.

 He didn’t like the quiet.

 Needed a distraction; needed something to occupy his mind with, something fatally important or absolutely trivial, to think about, so he wouldn’t have time to think about _that._

 But what was – _that_? He didn’t really know; only that he didn’t want to. So he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t think about _that_. Just a hole in the middle of his chest, after all.

-

 You’re running away.

  _“I know” Cloud answers, a little annoyed. “But I have no choice._

 Oh, you have a choice.

_The voice is so familiar; every curve, every syllable predictable. It is like looking at a mirror for the first time knowing that it is yourself staring back at you._

_“What?” Cloud asks, casting around the complete and enormous darkness. “What choice do I have?”_

Face it. Face the problem, Cloud.

  _“How can I face the problem –” Cloud says, feeling like he is closing his eyes in frustration. In truth, there is no difference to the almost-palpable darkness around. “If I don’t even know what_ that _is?”_

 _There is silence. Cloud opens his eyes. “Hey – do you know? Do you know what_ that _is?”_

_He feels hopeful – but it is too short, because too soon coldness cuts through his mind, stopping him, like a knife; brutally piercing and twisting in his heart. He just remembers that he doesn’t want to know. It scares him too much._

_That probably means that he already knows, just – doesn’t want to – just not in words._

_Thankfully, there is no answer from the voice._

-

 “Cloud,” Nanaki was saying. “I want you to meet Bugenhagen, my grandfather.”

 Cloud blinked; he felt he was out-of-context, somehow, that he didn’t quite remember making it here. But that was absurd. He remembered seeing the tower in the middle of the town, the endless steps – Nanaki’s quick darting guidance. They were in an observatory of some kind.

 Bugenhagen was an old man, with a beard so pristinely white that it almost looked fake. He had the town’s air of calmness and serenity, but there was also something wild about the twinkle in his indigo eyes. But _grandfather_ – Cloud supposed that Nanaki was being figurative about that.

 “Grandfather,” Nanaki now turned to Bugenhagen. “This is my – friend – Cloud.”

 “A Shinra?” Bugenhagen asked, in a voice that was light and innocent. Cloud flinched anyway; the Shinra would never stop following him for the rest of his life, with the glint of green-blue in his eyes like a stigma.

 “He used to be a SOLDIER,” Nanaki said quickly, before Cloud found something to say. Bugenhagen nodded.

 “A friend of Nanaki’s is a friend of ours. Thank you for looking after him. Nanaki is still a child, you see.”

 “Grandfather, please,” Nanaki purred, and Cloud thought he saw a little bit of Yuffie in his exasperation. “I am already forty-eight years of age.”

 “Nanaki’s tribe has incredible longevity,” Bugenhagen explained to Cloud. Cloud just nodded, politely; he couldn’t think of anything to say. “So, you see, his forty-eight years would only be the equivalent of, say, that of a fifteen or sixteen-year-old human child.”

 “Like Yuffie,” Cloud muttered, only to be glared at by Nanaki.

 “Anyway, I am strong enough to protect you and the village,” Nanaki said, turning his head. “I made it here, did I not?”

 “As I understand, you had much help from your friends,” Bugenhagen said, not unkindly but also firmly.

 “We helped each other,” Cloud said. Nanaki’s eyes flickered to him, but as usual, Cloud couldn’t read anything from his blazing eyes.

 “You cannot stand on your own yet, Nanaki. Doing that now would destroy you later,” Bugenhagen said. His voice was smooth and powerful. “Reaching up to the heavens, threatening to snatch the very stars from the great city of Midgar – you have seen it. But looking up too much makes you lose perspective. When it is time for this Planet to die, you will understand that you know absolutely nothing.”

 There was a kind of finality in the way he said it that had them both silent. Cloud didn’t really understand what he meant, but – snatch the very stars from the great city of Midgar – that was ironic, wasn’t it, because there were no stars in Midgar. At least not in the slums.

 “When the Planet dies?” He finally asked, finding his voice. His head was throbbing a little; a strange scent in the air, from an incense. Bugenhagen smiled, slowly. It looked sad, Cloud thought.

 “Indeed. It may be tomorrow, or a hundred years from now – but it is not long off.”

 “How do you know?”

 “I hear the cries of the Planet. The sound of the stars in the heavens. The screams from the Planet.”

 Screams from the Planet.

 And, as Bugenhagen said it, suddenly and clearly, Cloud heard it too.

 It was a screech, long and painful, rumbling with the earth and the universe, all around them. No start and no end – it was like it’d been there all along, and Cloud had only just noticed it. It was a horrible sound. Condemning, resenting, chilling to the bone, frightening – loathing.

 Cloud wondered if Aerith was hearing it all the time.

-

“This looks like a pub,” Aerith said. Tifa glanced up.

They had decided to look for a place to rest their legs, and maybe get something to drink. Tifa wished they had brought Cloud – who knew what he was doing, alone, but then maybe he’d wanted to be alone.

The building looked much like the rest of the town – half-nature, with trees and sun all over them. Tifa didn’t know why Aerith thought it was a pub, but followed her inside. She was probably right, anyway.

Aerith pushed open the door, which opened with an almost mute creak. The inside was dimly lit, but Tifa could make out the tables, a bar with clean glasses hanging from the ceiling panel, the bottles stacked high.

“Huh, it really is a pub,” Tifa muttered, as she scanned the room. There weren’t that many people (she hadn’t expected to find many people anyway, this being a meditative town and all that); they must have been curious about Aerith and Tifa, strangers, but politely did not stare. Tifa found their deliberate disinterestedness a little disconcerting.

“But not like yours, probably,” Aerith said.

“You know about – Seventh Heaven?”

“Mm. Cloud told me,” Aerith smiled. Tifa wondered if she was wrong to be surprised about that. Cloud – and Aerith – but she stopped herself thinking. She walked over to the counter, instead, looked over the selection. Apparently, the strongest drink here was Cactus Wine, which was more like a colorful (and slightly alcoholic) juice.

“It’s really sweet,” was Aerith’s verdict, after a sip. Tifa took her glass too, thinking that she wanted something clearer and stronger now, with all the heat. Summer had always been her least favorite season.

“You must be our guests. The ones that came with Nanaki,” a rough voice interrupted them. An old gentleman was leaning against the bar, with the same colorful drink in his hand. He looked kind (as everyone did, here) and curious. Aerith smiled at him.

“Yes, we are. I’m Aerith, and this is Tifa.”

“I’m Hargo,” the man said, raising his glass. There were easy crinkles around his eyes.

“So, Hargo, what do you do here?” Aerith said, conversationally.

“My job is to gather all the legends and the knowledge of the Planet. I’m writing a book.”

“A book?” Tifa asked. Hargo nodded, standing up a little straighter.

 “Legends?” Aerith said. “So – I wonder if you can tell us something, Hargo?” She looked at Tifa then, like she should know, and Tifa blinked back at her. Probably it was the stifling humidity and the chilling shade, alternatively. It was making her head spin, and made it a little hard to concentrate.

 “Anything. If I know the answer,” Hargo smiled. Tifa could see that he was charmed by Aerith; everyone was.

 “We want to know about the Promised Land.”

 And then Tifa understood Aerith’s look. She leaned in a little too.

 “The Promised Land,” Hargo considered, but his face was already brightening. “I have theories. There is no _one_ place called the Promised Land. At least, that’s what I think. No – it doesn’t exist.”

 “It doesn’t?” Tifa asked. _So Sephiroth was wrong?_

 “Well,” Hargo amended,” It doesn’t exist for _us_ , but it did for the Ancients. The Promised Land is the resting place of the Ancients.”

 Tifa couldn’t help but glance at Aerith; but she only looked curious and a little thoughtful.

 Hargo went on. “The life of the Ancients, as I understand it, is one continuous journey. A journey to grow trees and plants, animals, to raise the Mako energy… The place they returned to, after their long journey – that burial land is the Promised Land.”

 “We heard,” Aerith said, in a mild voice. “That it promises supreme happiness.”

 Hargo nodded eagerly. “Supreme happiness? Yes, I believe, for the Ancients, it was the moment that they were able to return to their Planet. The moment they were released from their fate.”

 “You seem to know so much about the Ancients,” Tifa said. Hargo laughed.

 “They’re fascinating.”

 Tifa thought it odd that he was referring to them as some kind of a – historical relic, an extinct species, a myth (which it would be, to him) – when Aerith was sitting right in front of him.

 “Thank you, Hargo,” Aerith smiled.

 The door swung open, then, and a shrill voice cried, “I found him!”

 It was Cait Sith, walking in with Cloud. Tifa couldn’t help but laugh at the annoyed expression on Cloud’s face, looking like he was being half-dragged into the pub.

 “Good job, Cait Sith,” Aerith laughed too. “Oh, hello, Cloud.”

 “We –” Cloud had to pause, while Cait Sith did a wild and noisy dance on top of his floating moogle (a victory dance, maybe) that had even the polite people of Grand Canyon staring. “We are going to leave now. The car is fixed.”

 “Okay,” Tifa said. “Thanks, Hargo, for the story.”

 “Any time! The drinks are on me,” Hargo laughed, heartily. Tifa was suddenly reluctant to leave this place; this quiet, unobtrusive, peaceful town – but they had a job to do. A bad man to stop.

 Tifa’s chair caught in the crack in the wooden floor, and she stumbled a little when she got up. Except, Cloud caught her before she fell. “Thanks,” she smiled, and he let go of her arm. It felt strangely cold where his hand left her.

 “I have some left, though,” Aerith was saying, peering into her glass. “Oh, I know – Cloud, you want some?”

 “What is it?” Cloud asked, but took the glass anyway. The liquid was bright red, clear as ruby; it would turn yellow, then orange, with time and the right light.

 “It’s called Cactus Wine. Come on, try it.”

 “It looks like a juice.”

 “Kinda tastes like one, too. Just – drink it, will you?”

 “Alright, fine.”

 Tifa watched Cloud stare dubiously at his drink, which had now turned light yellow. Then he drank it all at once. Aerith laughed, led the way out of the pub. Cloud followed her. He looked back after a few steps. “Coming, Tifa?”

 “Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Tifa heard herself say, and felt herself smiling. Cloud nodded, then they were walking again.

 Tifa stared at their backs. At his light blond hair, half-hidden by the giant sword on his back; her soft brown braids. His black sweater and her pastel pink dress. The way she laughed so easily, the way he smiled with his eyes.

 “Aren’t they so pretty together?” Tifa murmured, without meaning to, to Cait Sith. Cait Sith bounced a little, looking at her curiously.

 “You’re pretty too, Tifa,” he said. Tifa had to smile.

 “Thanks, Cait Sith.”

-

Nanaki was watching them go. They were not out of the village yet, but they would be soon. Right now they were looking for Yuffie; wherever the annoying little girl had gone off to. Nanaki tried to tell himself that he would not have any regrets. And he wouldn’t. Not – _regrets_ , anyway. He was doing what he was supposed to. Maybe with a little bit of imagination, he might miss them sometimes. But he was prepared.

 “Nanaki.” Bugenhagen called from behind. Nanaki jumped, because he hadn’t heard him come. Grandfather moved like a ghost. Nanaki remembered that Bugenhagen had turned one hundred and thirty this spring.

 “Grandfather.” Nanaki answered. Bugenhagen looked at him for a while, just looked at him, and then he cleared his throat. A rare occurrence, when he hesitated like that, but even that lasted just a few seconds. He was soon back to his smooth voice – flowing like a river, as Nanaki had always thought.

 “Nanaki, I want you to continue your journey with Cloud and the others.”

 “Grandfather?” Nanaki blinked, surprised. Bugenhagen looked down at the village, too. At the small dots that were moving about noisily, looking for Yuffie. He spoke slowly.

 “Cloud tells me that they are trying to save the Planet. Honestly, Nanaki… I do not think it can be done.”

 Nanaki didn’t say anything. Bugenhagen looked at him for a while, then continued.

 “For even if they stop every reactor on the Planet, it is only going to postpone the inevitable. Even if they stop that man – Sephiroth, everything will perish. But Nanaki, I have been thinking lately.” He looked back at Nanaki. And Nanaki knew that grandfather had already made up his mind, and Nanaki would have to go. Not because he would force him to, but because it probably _was_ best – grandfather was wise. Nanaki inclined his head.

 “I have been thinking if there was anything _we_ could do, as a part of the Planet, something to help… It is already in so much pain. No matter what happens, is it not important to try? Am I just wishing against fate?” Bugenhagen laughed, softly. Nanaki returned his gaze to the village below. It seemed that they had found Yuffie. They were now making their way to the gate, someone already out there to guide them back. There they would continue to fight, to fight against everything they knew, for everything they believed in. They were strong. _Warriors_ , Nanaki thought.

 “That is why, Nanaki, you must go with them. For my sake.” Bugenhagen concluded.

 Nanaki finally nodded.

 “I will see to what is happening to the Planet. And I will come back to tell you.”

 A lingering goodbye, but not for too long, he hoped.

 “I will come back.” He said again, and then jumped down the rocks. Wind swished by him in a familiar rush of howls. He landed right behind the group.

 Cloud heard him first, even before Nanaki landed. Their eyes met, Mako blue and ocher.

 “I’m coming too,” Nanaki said. Cloud asked no questions, just nodded. Nanaki appreciated that.

 “I _knew_ it!” Yuffie yelled. Tifa and Aerith smiled, Barret raised his eyebrows. Nanaki wanted to look back to where Bugenhagen still must be, but he didn’t. He was going to see grandfather again. Until then –

 They continued North, all of them, fighting for the impossible but still fighting. Trying.

 And who knew? Maybe Bugenhagen, as wise as he was, did not know everything. Maybe they would save the Planet. 


	19. To Wake Me from the Nightmare

18\. To Wake Me from the Nightmare

 

 Cloud figured that the only way Sephiroth could have gone was across the desert (if he wasn’t going back to Gongaga); a traveler they met on the way confirmed this. Barret grumbled something about Sephiroth playing hard-to-get, flitting just out of reach like some prim girl. Tifa seemed to think that wasn’t an accurate analogy, and Yuffie accused him of being a sexist (her go-to accusation). Barret fell into a pouty silence.

 The air was getting cooler. They weren’t paying much attention to where they were going. Cait Sith got more silent by the minute. In retrospect, all these things should have been a clue.

 Cloud vaguely remembered thinking that the road was somewhat familiar, then looking up; but he froze in place as soon as he did. It was one of those moments; every cell in his body seemed to be screaming, out of place, out of order.

 “What the –” Tifa gasped. Cloud had stopped so abruptly that Yuffie bumped into his back. Cloud stared (didn’t dare look at Tifa), and blinked. It was too strange; he was convinced it must be a dream, though he knew it wasn’t. But how?

 “What’s wrong?” Barret asked. Then he saw it too. “What’s that sign say?”

 “Nibelheim,” Nanaki read, in his flowing voice.

 There was a deafening silence. Cloud stared at the worn-out sign, then at the town in front of him. Few people stopped to stare back at them. His head was spinning fast and maddening – how were there people in the town? How was there the town?

 “Didn’t you say,” Barret said, cautiously. “That the whole town burnt down?”

 Cloud _did_ dare to look at Tifa, then, and found to his relief that she was looking as bewildered as he felt. So it wasn’t his hallucination – the town burning down, his entire quest for Sephiroth and vengeance – unless, of course, they were both hallucinating.

 “I did,” Cloud said, only remembering what he was answering after he did.

 “Well, don’t take this the wrong way,” Yuffie said, skeptical. “But it looks pretty un-burnt-down to me.”

 “Yeah,” Cloud agreed, for the lack of a better thing to do. The town looked exactly how he remembered – before the fire.

 “What’s going on?” Tifa frowned, biting her lips, almost drawing blood. “My house is there, too – look –” She looked at Cloud, then, desperate and searching. “You don’t think – Cloud – that it was somehow – but we have the same memory –”

 “It wasn’t a dream,” Cloud said, sounding much surer than he felt. What could he say, anyway, except to deny the possibility? He _did_ remember, clearly, the intense heat of the flames; also the red and yellow and white, the smell of air burning.

 “We should go inside,” Aerith suggested. “Find out what is happening.”

 Cloud hesitated, but nodded. They couldn’t ignore it and move on, now that they were here. Here – Cloud wondered if Sephiroth was here, too, to reenact his glorious beginning.

-

 “Hi, welcome!”

 Cloud stared at the innkeeper; it wasn’t someone he recognized. But then, why would he? Everyone he’d known was dead.

 “It’s a hundred gill a night. How many rooms do you need?”

 “We need answers, that’s what we need,” Barret growled. The innkeeper turned his curiously blank eyes to Barret, blinking placidly.

 “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, sir.”

 “This town,” Cloud started, almost pushed forward by some invisible hands, almost choking on his words. “It was burnt down five years ago. Everyone died. What happened after that?”

 The innkeeper now looked bewildered. “I think you’ve mistaken this town for another, sir.”

 “Isn’t this Nibelheim?” Tifa asked, impatient. The innkeeper nodded.

 “Yes. And I was born and raised in this town. What you say – such awful imagination – never happened here.”

 “You’re lying –” Tifa said, eyes widening. The innkeeper blinked, putting on a smooth face of being slightly insulted, but indulging in the mad delirium of the obviously troubled travelers.

 “Do excuse me, Miss, but I think it’s _you_ who’s mistaken.”

 Tifa looked like she wanted to say more, but Cloud shook his head; there was no use. They walked (Cloud in a sort of dream-like state, wondering if this wasn’t another one of his hallucinations) into the store next door. The man at the counter beamed when they entered; another unfamiliar face. Too polite, again, too pleasant, like they were re-enactors of life, not the thing itself.

 “Hello! Are you visitors? If you’re looking for boots, you’ve come to the right place. We’ve been in business here for a long time –”

 “No, you weren’t,” Cloud said, though he knew it was futile. The man widened his eyes in almost a comical shock.

 “I don’t understand. Why do you say that?”

 Cloud considered him for a moment. Tifa looked at him, with a frown on her face. Cloud finally just shook his head. “Never mind,” he said, and walked back out.

 “What’s going on?” Tifa said, almost to herself. People passed them by; never gave them more than a curious but polite glance, which wasn’t right. People in Nibelheim weren’t like that at all. But then, they had all died.

-

 Tifa was confused; no, that was putting it mildly. She was aghast, furious, desolate, all at the same time. She knew that Cloud had never really loved the town, and she had always sympathized; why would he? It hadn’t liked _him._ But he must be feeling – similar to what she was feeling, right now, at seeing the town like this, an after-image – a ghost. Except that Tifa had loved Nibelheim; despite everything, she had. The buildings were almost exactly the same as she remembered, all in the exact same places. The mountains and the trees and the tiny brook were the same; it was the people that she couldn’t stand. She didn’t understand what was going on.

 But in hindsight, maybe she should have guessed.

 Tifa’s house was the only building in the town, it seemed, that was different. The outside was the same, but when they entered, Tifa saw that it was almost entirely empty; minimum furniture, walls stripped bare and gray, a naked light bulb hanging from the ceiling. They almost immediately crouched in anticipation of some evil. The air changed; but there was no one inside.

 They did, however, find a bunch of papers on a desk in what used to be Tifa’s room (now bare, except for a steel desk in the middle of the room). Cloud snatched it up, read it quickly with his eyes.

 “What’s it say? Read it aloud.” Barret said, trying to peer at the paper. Tifa startled; she had almost forgotten about the others. They probably guessed how strange it was, but really they had no idea. Cloud finished reading, wordlessly handed it to Tifa. She tried to read his face but couldn’t, other than a faint trace of horror and disgust that was his default whenever – so she should have guessed – she looked down at the paper, and started reading out aloud, slowly.

 “Periodic Report to Professor Hojo. One, clone activity report. Two, confidentiality report.” She had to pause for a second, while Barret growled something incoherent with the word _Shinra_ in it. “A total of eight people have visited this town this quarter. Fortunately, none knew about the incident five years ago. Therefore no one knows the town was restored exactly as it was then. We have paid and moved the required number of people into the town, all sworn to secrecy, and we do not report any problems at this time.”

 “Those scoundrels –” Barret said, heated. Tifa held up her hand. She felt numb.

 “Wait, there’s more. A handwritten note at the end of the paper.” She had to screw up her eyes to see; it was more of a scratch than writing, in blue ink, scrawled and tilted either in urgency or excitement. “I… must… get rid of all those that… stand in the way of my research. Including that one from the… Turks. The… altered one. Currently asleep in the basement.”

 There was a short silence when she finished reading. Tifa put the paper down, quietly, thinking she’d like to tear it to pieces.

 “What,” Aerith finally broke the silence, a frown between her eyebrows. “Was that last part? About the… one from the Turks?”

 “Another victim of Hojo’s mad project?” Nanaki suggested. Cait Sith remained disturbingly quiet, even the whirring sound of his body was muted. This tugged at the back of Tifa’s mind in an annoying sense of foreboding, but she didn’t have time to dwell on that right now.

 “Where’s this – basement? Cloud, do you think –”

 Cloud nodded, before she finished her question. “The Shinra Mansion. Must be.”

 “You wanna go there?” Yuffie asked, slightly horrified.  

 Everyone looked at Cloud; he was their leader. Cloud hesitated, but only for a little while. He made decisions quickly. He didn’t seem to doubt. That was some comfort for them – or, at least for Tifa.

 “We’re going,” he finally nodded. “This person… might need our help.”

-

 Thoughts and dreams and emotions and memories all flowed together as one continuous stream. Time became meaningless; there was no way to measure it, save for the repetition of that one thought – he did not know the meaning of it, just that it repeated. _To wake me from the nightmare. To wake me from the nightmare. To wake me…_

 Sometimes it was _save_ – sometimes not – but it kept repeating. A flow. Always. Stretching into forever beyond and forever behind. Eternal repetition –

 Until, one day, someone woke him up.

 He opened his eyes. The light blinded him.

 “Who is it?”

 It took a while before he realized he’d spoken. Before he remembered his own voice; low, ancient, decayed, horrifying, shattering. Someone had woken him from the nightmare, though.

 He sat up in a blink; it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the sudden light, but they adjusted fast. Light – flipping from the darkness – air rushing into his long-unused lungs, a blink, and he saw a pair of unfamiliar eyes staring back at him. Not the dull, gray eyes of the scientist; clear blue, screaming something inaudible – no, it wasn’t the eyes that were screaming, it was the voices inside his head.

 “Who is it?” He repeated, while the blue-eyed man stood still and almost frozen. He decided then that it didn’t matter, one way or another. Staring – frozen. He remembered. “You must leave.”

 Another voice answered, loud and not very pleasant to the ear; _hollered_. “Whaddya mean we must leave? We woke you up!”

 He frowned; the voice was too loud; sound had been absent for too long, save for the almost mute whispers in his head.

 “Not so loud, Barret.” This was yet another voice. He looked at the girl who spoke. She looked at him too, and said, “I think you’ve been having a bad dream.” Her eyes were green; deep green. She was looking at him with something like – curiosity – and he turned his head. He realized that there were more people in the room; another girl, a strange beast – two beasts. And then another girl, who was half-hidden by the shadows, but his eyes worked quickly in the dark too. She had coal black eyes, hands on her hips.

 “Man, do you look out of sorts,” she was saying, “Even _I_ feel bad for you.”

 All he could notice were their eyes. Because he remembered, the blood-red that had stared back at him.

 He wondered what he could say. “My long sleep –” Almost to himself, he began, an extension of the swirling thoughts in his head. “Has given me time to atone –”

 “What are you saying?” The blue-eyes finally opened his mouth. He imagined them turning red, bloodthirsty and hungry; he had to warn them.

 “You must leave. This place is not safe.”

 “If you mean Hojo,” the blue-eyes started, carefully, looking for something in him. “He isn’t here right now. Nobody’s here.”

 He stared. Thoughts were going madly around in his head. “Hojo?” He asked. “You know – what do you know?”

 “Well, Sephiroth –”

 That was his signal; that woke him up. He sprang from the – the coffin, he was lying in, up and standing in one fluid motion. The seconds in between were meaningless. His battered red cloak swept the floor.

 “You know Sephiroth?” He asked, voice laying low inside the room. If the blue-eyes was startled at his speed, he didn’t show.

 “You know Sephiroth too?” He asked back.

 “Tell me what you know,” he demanded. Blue-eyes considered him for a moment, nodded slowly.

 He listened to the story he was telling; with no inflections. Five years – madness – fire – village – Shinra – it felt familiar.

 And, Sephiroth. Had that much time passed?

 “So – five years ago, Sephiroth found out he’d been created – about the Jenova project.”

 He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, but the blue-eyes nodded. He thought about what he’d said. He supposed this was another weight on his burden; not unexpected, but it struck him in a cold sort of sorrow. A lot of time had passed; but time had been meaningless to him, living in eternity. It _did_ raise a question – a weary one – _would atonement ever come_?

 “Hey,” the blue-eyes said. “Who are you? How do you know Sephiroth?”

 He shook his head. “Sorry. I cannot say.”

 “Hey –”

 “Then at least tell us your name,” the blue-eyes spoke over the large man’s protest.

 He paused; searched his mind. It came slowly, covered in dust; he hadn’t thought he’d be using it ever again.

 “Valentine – Vincent Valentine,” he said, feeling the weight of it on his tongue. “I’m – I was with the Shinra Manufacturing Department in Administrative Research.”

 They all stared at him, blankly. Vincent shook his head. “Otherwise known as the Turks.”

 “The Turks?” The big man narrowed his eyes in distaste.

 “Formerly of the Turks,” Vincent said. “I have no affiliation with Shinra now.”

 “My name is Cloud Strife. I used to be –”

 “SOLDIER,” Vincent realized, noticing the unmistakable glow of green around the rim of his eyes. Also the uniform; first class; he didn’t know why he hadn’t noticed them before.

 “Used to be,” Cloud nodded.

 Vincent heard himself ask, though he hadn’t planned to, the question breaking out like water falling from atop a mountain. “You were also with Shinra – do you know what happened – do you know Lucrecia?”

 Cloud looked a little surprised at the urgency in his voice. He shook his head.

 “No. Who is it?”

 “It’s –” Vincent blinked; a quick hope, but quicker defeat. He shouldn’t have hoped in the first place. “It’s the woman who gave birth to Sephiroth.”

 “What?” One of the girls shrieked; it echoed, against the walls.

 “I thought Jenova was – his mother –”

 “That is only partly true,” Vincent said. He was weary, but Cloud might deserve an explanation; if what he said was true, and he was really trying to stop Sephiroth. Which should have been Vincent’s job. Would’ve been. “Sephiroth was born from Lucrecia, who was the assistant to Professor Gast, both of them working on the Jenova Project.”

 The sun, the snow, her laughter; in his memory she had been alive, in that timeless purgatory, but now –

 “Was it – were there experiments on human bodies?” Cloud said, surprising Vincent a little; he caught on quickly. He nodded, run out of words to say.

 Except one; that is, the only thing he could ask for.

 “If I go with you, will I see Hojo again?”

 “I don’t know,” Cloud said. “But we’re going after Sephiroth. So I guess – sooner or later –”

 Vincent nodded; that was good enough. He’d thought he could sleep away his sins, to atonement, but couldn’t remember why he’d thought that. Pause to this nightmare – a temporary escape; if it was his punishment he would gladly suffer, but not before he fulfilled his quest. For her.

 “I want to go with you, then. Being a former Turk – I may be of help to you.”

 “Alright,” Cloud nodded, easily. Vincent thought it strange that he didn’t ask the others, but none of them seemed disgruntled by this. Perhaps they were used to it, Vincent thought, collecting weary travelers on the way.

 “Alright,” Vincent repeated, thinking that he’d smile if he only remembered how to do it.

-

 These pieces. Memory or imagination?

  _“I don’t know,” Cloud says. “What pieces?”_

_The pieces rush through; he blinks, watches._

-

 Are you okay? _Scratched on sheets of green, desperation in his eyes._

 We can get out.

 Let’s get out.

  _Then, lastly,_ Feeding time.

-

[A] No effect detected from Mako Radiation Therapy, Jenova.

[B] Reaction detected.

Shot for resisting.

… Currently unknown. Submit there is no need for pursuit. Diminishing consciousness. Awaiting further instructions.   


 


	20. Numbskulls

19\. Numbskulls

 

They passed through the Nibel mountains and continued north. Cloud found himself driving faster than usual, anxious to leave the town behind. He saw it disappear into a tiny dot in the rearview mirror; but it only seemed to grow larger in his head, and he had to shake it to kill the image. Kill the people – the actors – in his head, because they were already dead. Tifa was sitting by his side, glancing wearily at the disappearing town and then at his face. They didn’t speak. Cloud wondered how it looked. Their Nibelheim was dead, though. Died a long time ago. White flowers for all.

“God, Cloud, you wanna kill us?” Yuffie screamed as soon as the truck skidded to a stop. She stumbled off, and fell right onto the ground, getting dirt all over herself. “My insides are tumbling! Man…”

Vincent jumped out (almost _flew_ out), and watched her with a stoic expression that might have been amusement.

“Sorry,” Cloud muttered, slamming the car door shut a little more forcefully than he’d intended. He looked up and met Aerith’s eyes, watching him. Turned his head quickly, as if he’d been caught doing something criminal. He looked for something to distract him – where were they, anyway? It wasn’t hard to find; right in the center of the small town they’d stopped in front of, there was a giant, rusty old rocket; slightly tilted to the side, overcome with moss-green vegetation. The rest of the town, it seemed, was built around that centerpiece.

“Hey, is that…?” Yuffie said, quickly recovering herself.

“Is that a sculpture-thing?” Barret asked.

“I don’t think so. That’s a real rocket,” Aerith said, cheerfully. “How fascinating is that?”

 Her enthusiasm was, if not catching, a general relief. Even Vincent looked up curiously at the giant thing.

 “I wonder,” he said, paused, as if speaking was some alien activity he hadn’t gotten used to yet.

 “What?” Yuffie asked, impatiently.

 “I wonder if it’s Shinra.”

 “Shinra?” Barret crumpled up his face.

 “I guess we’ll find out,” Cloud said quickly; he didn’t want another of Barret’s long rants about how Shinra was destroying the Planet and was the embodiment of pure, unadulterated evil. He headed into the town first, hoping to find some clue about Sephiroth. There was a nagging feeling that this wasn’t where he’d headed to at all, since nobody at Nibelheim had said anything.

- 

 “Well, I don’t know anything, but if you talk to –”

 “The _Captain_ , yeah, I get it,” Barret rolled his eyes. The shopkeeper raised his eyebrows but didn’t say anything. Cloud murmured a thanks and ushered Barret out of the tiny grocery store.

 “Who is this _Captain_ person?” Barret grumbled, a little too loudly; the passersby looked back at him with identical expressions that were close to horror.

 “I don’t know,” Tifa said, appearing out of nowhere (they had split in groups to ask around, look for clues about Sephiroth. Cloud had taken Barret because no one else wanted to), Yuffie closely following. “But everybody keeps telling us to go see him. Maybe he’s the mayor, or something.”

 “Did anyone tell you _where_?” Cloud asked.

 “I think it’s that rocket,” Aerith said, walking towards them with Vincent in tow. He was looking a little bewildered, also out of place with his wild red cloak standing out in the mute colors of the village. “That’s where he lives.”

 “How do you know?” Nanaki asked.

 “This nice lady told us that Captain Cid – that’s his name – was supposed to be the first astronaut ever, but something happened and now he’s drinking away his life.”

 “ _What_ happened?”

 “Something Shinra,” Barret answered Nanaki, with indisputable authority.

 “Well,” Cloud said, looking dubiously at the giant tilting rocket. It was visible from every part of the village; part of the sky, almost, a natural monument. “I guess we’ll go ask the Captain, then.”

 “To the Rocket!” Yuffie yelled, gleefully.

- 

 A glisten caught his eyes, as they were passing through the messy greens of what Cloud assumed was the back garden. He paused, and looking closer, found the silvery glint of a small plane parked in between the overgrowths, almost hidden.

 “Cool, is that a plane?” Yuffie said, racing ahead of him. Cloud followed. The plane had a name – Tiny Bronco – and small but unmistakable, a Shinra logo at the side. Cloud ran a hand over the steel; it was warm from the sun.

 “Is that what I think it is?” Barret said, bending over to inspect the logo.

 “It’s a Shinra logo,” Cloud said, already guessing what Barret was going to say next.

 “Awright, then, let’s steal it!” Barret said.

 “What?” Tifa frowned.

 “That’s like, the only good idea you’ve had, old man!” Yuffie quipped, to which Barret started to growl, only a rustle of leaves behind them shut him of abruptly. They turned quickly, used to the random ambushes by the Shinra by now (perhaps it was that Turk duo again, Reno and Rude). Except, Cloud found a gentle-looking woman staring back with as much surprise as them.

 “Hello?” Aerith tried.

 “Um – hello?” The woman said, blinking, and her glance flitted to Cloud’s hand, which was still resting on the plane. Cloud dropped it hastily, wondering if she’d heard their conversation. “Who are you?”

 “We’re –” Cloud was about to answer (though with what?), when the woman asked suddenly, her face lighting up hopefully. “Are you from Shinra?”

 “No!” Barret yelled. Too loud. The woman looked startled, and then a little frightened.

 “No – but – what’s your name?” Cloud said, attempting to smooth things over.

 “Um – I’m Shera,” she answered a little uncertainly.

 “Shera,” Tifa’s voice was kind. “Why did you think we were from Shinra?”

 “Well, because – I didn’t think it, I hoped. President Rufus was supposed to come this morning, and I hoped – for the Captain’s sake – that it was to approve the reopening of the Space Program.”

 “Rufus was supposed to come here?” Cloud said. Either it was a coincidence, or –

 “We’re actually here to talk to the Captain,” Tifa said. “Is he inside?”

 “He should be…” Shera trailed off. She shot a nervous look back at Barret (who was trying his best to be unthreatening), then nodded at them to follow.

 She led them to a long flight of stairs that looked rickety at best, leading up to the middle of the giant rocket, where they could see a door hanging open. So the old lady had been right – the Captain actually lived _in_ the rocket. Shera started to climb the stairs with a familiar ease, but the rest of them hung back, looking up at the stairs with doubt.

 “Oh, it’s safe,” Shera looked back, laughing a little. “Captain Cid built them himself.”

 “I think I’m gonna wait here, just to be safe,” Barret decided.

 “I have a fear of height,” Cait Sith announced, in an uncharacteristically grave voice. Cloud shrugged.

 “We don’t all have to go.”

 “I’ll go with you,” Vincent said. Something red and smelling faintly of wood – his sharp-pointed gauntlets and matching boots flashed in a second, then in the next he was up at least ten steps. Shera, who suddenly found him standing right next to herself, blinked in surprise.

 “Show-off!” Yuffie accused, which Aerith seemed to find very funny. Cloud started walking up the steps (mentally preparing for a mid-air tumble) with the sound of her laughter as a backdrop, that made him think of trickling water.

 In the end, only Cloud, Vincent and Yuffie (who climbed the stairs like it was a particularly willowy tree) went up to Cid’s home. They had only taken a step inside when a bellowing, rough voice yelled, “ _Shera_! Is that you?”

 “Captain Cid, you have…” Before she could finish the sentence, the Captain himself appeared from what Cloud guessed used to be the bridge.

 “What? Speak up, woman, I can’t hear you! And where’ve you been all morning?”

 Cid looked about late thirties, with a messy, short blond hair, stubbles and an unlit cigarette between his teeth. His face went blank, momentarily, when he saw Cloud and the others gathered behind Shera somewhat awkwardly.

 “Huh?” He had a hard voice, calloused like his hands. “Who the hell are they?”

 “I tried to tell you. You have visitors, Captain.”

 “ _Visitors_?” Cid said, like Shera had told him that they were people from the future.

 “We just wanted to ask you –” Cloud started, but Cid wasn’t listening. He waved a hand at them, absently.

 “Well, come on, then! Sit somewhere – Shera, get some tea!”

 “It’s okay, we don’t need –”

 “Drink your goddamn tea, will you? SHERA! THE TEA!”

 There was a distant murmur of Shera answering, and cups clicking. Cloud exchanged a look with Vincent and Yuffie. Yuffie shrugged, sat perched on a dead console in front of her. Cloud sat on a pilot’s chair. Vincent remained standing, leaning against the wall and seeming to disappear, despite his conspicuous colors and the flowing long black hair.

 “Nice rocket,” Yuffie commented, dangling her feet. Cid raised an eyebrow, chewing on his cigarette, and chuckled a little. Cloud was a little surprised at his abrupt good humor.

 “Shinra No.26 is the official title, though I always called her somethin’ else.”

 “Does it work?” Yuffie asked. The tea arrived, then, and Cloud took his cup almost absently.

 “Used to. Almost launched it, too… Until – well, there was an accident.” His eyes briefly flickered to Shera, who seemed to start fumbling at this, and almost dropped Vincent’s cup of tea. Vincent caught it in a flash, though.

 “Listen, have you seen a man –”

 Cloud started, but was interrupted again by a sudden commotion outside. Cid sprang from his seat, dropped his cigarette on the floor and rushed out. Shera looked up hopefully.

 “Maybe it’s the Shinra,” she said.

 “If it is, we have trouble,” Cloud muttered. “Barret’s outside.”

 “I’ll go and look,” said Vincent, disappearing quickly through the open door. He was back in a minute, his red cloaking flapping behind him like wings.

 “Well, Mr. Super Ninja?” Yuffie said, sarcastically. Vincent took no note of this.

 “A man I assume is Rufus Shinra is here,” he said.

 “Is he here to renew the Space Program?” Shera asked, eyes trembling.

 Vincent shook his head. “No. He’s here to borrow the plane – the one we saw in the back yard.”

 Cloud could hear Cid shouting _are you out of your friggin’ mind_ , and wondered where Barret and the others were.

 “They’re going to take his plane,” Shera said, horror drawing over her pale face. Then her expression changed, morphing into some resolute determination, and she turned to face Cloud.

 “Take the plane.”

 “What?” Cloud said, confused.

 “Take the plane – there’s a shortcut to the back yard, here, and –”

 “But why?” Yuffie said.

 “He’d rather die than have Shinra take it, now that they denied him this last hope… He’d rather you take it, instead.” Shera said this with such conviction that Cloud found himself nodding, without really knowing what he was agreeing to.

 “I can hear them arguing,” Vincent said. “Rufus Shinra is saying – that Sephiroth is over the ocean, and that’s why he needs the plane.”

 “Well, then, so do we,” Cloud said, making up his mind. They ran (fell) down the “shortcut” that Shera had shown them, landing directly in front of the Tiny Bronco, if in a rather messy way. He got up quickly, though, brushing dirt off himself. The others were gathered around the plane still, and from the looks of it, Nanaki and Tifa had had to restrain Barret from jumping the President, who was standing at the other side of the rocket, hidden by brambles.

 “Where did you come from?” Cait Sith said.

 “No time to explain – get in the plane!” Cloud said, jumping in first. Cid’s voice was getting louder, and Rufus’s colder. It wouldn’t be long until he and his Shinra minions would barge in to take the plane by force.

 “We’re stealin’ it?” Barret said, even as he climbed in after Cloud.

 “With permission,” Vincent amended.

 “But does anyone know how to fly this thing?” Cloud said, realization dawning on him.

 “No – I thought you knew –” Barret had to yell, for how the engine suddenly turned on (Cloud had pressed the biggest button) and was roaring loudly in their ears. Rufus would have heard it; they had to get away, quickly.

 “Why would I know?”

 “’Cause yer supposed to be a goddamn SOLDIER!”

 “SOLDIERS don’t fly planes!”

 “Here, doesn’t this look like a steering wheel?” Aerith shouted, reaching over Cloud’s shoulders to point. Cloud looked at it dubiously, but they had no time; already there were shouts, and the blue of the infantrymen were beginning to emerge among the trees.

 “Alright – here it goes –” Cloud pulled at the lever. The plane suddenly lurched forward, almost toppling everyone overboard. He quickly pushed it the other way, and it began to float – dangerously close the ground, making sparks with the branches it was breaking off, and for a wild moment of panicked shouts and curses and loud engine-sounds, Cloud met Rufus’s bewildered eyes. Then Rufus had to duck, because it was flying much too close to him, and Cloud felt a weight on his shoulder.

 “Get away from the friggin’ controls!”

 It was Cid; the plane had been flying low enough for him to jump onboard, and he was now pushing Cloud aside and grabbing the controls. Cloud scrambled away gladly. The plane floated up, smoothly, and Yuffie yelled something incoherent, grabbing tightly to the side of the plane.

 Cloud heard it before he saw it. The sharp piercing of air, the vibrations. “Duck!” He yelled, and grabbed the person closest to him, which happened to be Aerith, and pulled her away. A bullet missed her by inches, and Aerith’s eyes widened.

 “Damn, they shootin’ at us!” Barret shouted.

 “Well, what did you expect, you numbskulls?” Cid said, but he was laughing. They were flying – avoiding the bullets, sunlight breaking over their eyes and bright blue sky – until one of the lucky bullets hit one of the wings, and then they were falling.

 “We’re gonna die!” Cait Sith squeaked, holding onto Nanaki’s fur. Nanaki, in turn, was gripping the side with his paws, growling.

 “Hold on, we’re gonna land on water!” Cid ground out. Thankfully, they had flown far enough away and the ocean was close enough that they might make it – the plane skimmed the water’s surface, vibrating wildly, splashing water all over them – and then finally, after a long while, it came to a standstill.

 For a while nobody spoke. Cloud’s heart was still pumping fast. Everybody was wet, and the engine was sputtering meekly. With an irritated motion Cid turned it off, and then they were just floating on the water, with sunlight and gentle tides, silently. Cid looked at the broken left wing of the Tiny Bronco, and sighed loudly.

 “Can we…” Cloud cleared his throat. Water had gotten into his eyes and nose. “Can we use it as a boat?”

 “… Do whatever you want,” Cid said, resigned.

 “Hey, old man,” said Yuffie, with her easy familiarity. “Whatcha gonna do now?”

 “I don’t know.” Cid raised his head, wearily. “What about you crazy kids?”

 “We’re chasing after a man called Sephiroth,” Cloud said.

 “Sephiroth?” Cid sat up. “Rufus friggin’ Shinra mentioned that name… He said Sephiroth was going toward the Temple of the Ancients.”

 Cloud couldn’t help but glance at Aerith, but she was looking placid, squeezing the water out from her braids.

 “Well,” Cid said, throwing up his hands. “I might as well join you for the time being.”

 “Yeah?” Yuffie said.

 “Not like any o’ you numbskulls know how to drive this thing to shore,” Cid pointed out.

 “Not like you’d seriously kick us out,” Barret countered. They looked at each other for a moment with narrowed eyes, then seemed to decide at the same time that they could tolerate each other’s presence for the moment.

 “Okay, so where’s the nearest land?” Cloud said, resigned to the fact that more and more people seem to be joining what was supposed to be a solitary mission going after Sephiroth.

 “Let’s see… to the west. Wutai.” Cid said.

 “Great!” Yuffie said, beaming.


	21. Wutai

20\. Wutai

 

 The engine sputtered to a stop, spitting out the last of its life, just as the Tiny Bronco hit the shore. Yuffie darted out first (as it had become a custom), green in the face. Cloud felt a little sick too. Moving surface, especially if it was on water, made him nauseous. Or maybe it was just the knowledge that they were using a plane for a boat; something about that incongruity had been very disturbing.

 Barret jumped out next, splashing cold water all over Cloud.

 “Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” he said, cheerfully. Cloud wiped his face without saying anything.

 Cid was last, and he looked back at the Tiny Bronco with a mournful look, and patted its side. As if in reply, the propellers suddenly whirled loudly before going completely dead, this time for good.

 Cloud looked around himself; a peaceful shore. White sand glistened here and there, but most of the surface was coarse rock and pebbles, dark with age and weight. The rhythmical splash of sea over the rocks would have been the only sound. If not for Yuffie clearing her throat, rather insistently and ostensibly.

 Cloud finally turned to her at the seventh or the eighth cough. “What?”

 “What?” Yuffie feigned surprise. “Well, since you _ask_ … I know this area pretty well, and it gets kinda tough to walk past here, so, um, we better be careful.”

 Yuffie drew out, looking at everywhere but at Cloud. Barret narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

 “You serious? And you sayin’ that just now means you’re up to somethin’, right?”

 “No! Geez, you have a problem, Barret, why would I –” Yuffie jumped, indignant, but she didn’t get to finish. Suddenly the empty shore was full of movement and sound – Of guns cocking, wind bristling, and Cloud realized that they were surrounded, suddenly and completely. The dark blue of the uniform, those hideous masks; they were all so familiar.

 “It’s Shinra,” Nanaki growled, low. Cloud nodded; it bothered him that he hadn’t heard their approach. All the bushes and trees around the shore – but that was an excuse. The darkness should have looked suspicious. His enhanced hearing should have distinguished the footsteps, however hushed. It was probably because he had been distracted by Yuffie…

 In a sudden flash of doubt, Cloud looked back at Yuffie.

 “Hey, that’s not them!”

 A confused voice called from behind one of the masks. A dead silence followed.

 “Yuffie, you –” Cloud didn’t know how to ask, but Yuffie was shaking her head hard, looking scared and determined at the same time.

 “I didn’t know,” she said. “I have nothing to do with this one.” She glanced around at the soldiers who stood motionless, no doubt as confused as they were.

 “Wait,” Barret said. “Whaddya mean _this one_? This one! So you _were_ plannin’ somethin’!”

They never got to hear what Yuffie had to say to that.

 “Hey, shut up!” A soldier yelled. “Stop yammering over there!”

 “Shut up _yerself_!” Barret yelled, and a shot was fired (perhaps by an inexperienced infantryman, his hand having slipped), and then the fight began. Cloud instinctively readied himself, but when he swept his glance around, he realized that –

 “Where’s Yuffie?” Tifa asked, skidding forward on the ground (pebbles jumping up everywhere) and dodging a bullet.

 “She’s gone,” Vincent said. Then they had no time for talk.

 Still a little confused, the soldiers were slower and more hesitant. Cloud went through them one by one, efficiently; dodge a bullet, hit them over the head, step over the unconscious body. It was all very methodical. He didn’t even have to draw his sword.

 “Where the hell is that dam kid?!” Cid roared, as he pushed one soldier into another with a spear-like weapon Cloud had never seen before. The two soldiers yelped as they fell, and Vincent suddenly appeared between them and knocked their heads together.

 And then, somewhere in the back, Tifa shouted, “My Materia! They’re missing!”

 Cloud realized that he wasn’t that surprised, after all. He punched a soldier in the face, breaking his nose. His hand had hit the edge of the mask, and felt a little numb.

 Then suddenly there was no one to attack anymore. A confused silence fell, drawn over with heavy breaths and an angry murmur from Barret and Cid.

 “Zounds!” Nanaki suddenly growled, making them all jump. He snarled, so low that it seemed to vibrate the ground. “Her objective was stealing our Materia, from the beginning.”

 “Nanaki,” Aerith said, gently, as if to diffuse his anger (though he was justified, Cloud thought). “Did you see where she went?”

 “Yes.” Nanaki raised his head. “To the north.”

 And in an unspoken agreement, they headed north. A part of Cloud’s mind was screaming that they had no time – always short on time – but they needed the Materia, and also an explanation. So Cloud followed Nanaki’s quick steps and tried hard not to feel anything at all.

- 

 It was a quiet day; not many people out in the streets – or was it always like this? Cloud didn’t know. He had never been to Wutai. He saw a few people glancing at his uniform, their eyes wary, but they made no move toward him. They let him pass.

 Something was definitely strange about this place, though Cloud could not pinpoint the exact source of his discomfort. People were walking on paved streets. Concrete building looked out gloomily at a gray day. Just like any city back at the continent – but it was surreal, somehow. Maybe it was the fact that everyone they passed had the same coal black eyes and black hair. Cloud’s light blond hair stood out, rather inconveniently.

 Cloud decided that the city looked like a young boy wearing grownup clothes and shoes. Pieced together, the grayness of civilization forced upon the trees and the dirt. Cloud thought – but no, he did not have time for unnecessary reflections and guilt-trips. Sometimes he was trying not to think so many things that his head hurt.

- 

 They agreed that the best place to look for someone, or to ask after them, would be the local bar. There was only one anyway. They spotted an old building that was made of wood and patched in places by concrete. The roof was half flat, and half made of layered indigo tiles. The sign read _Turtle’s Paradise_ ; a crude drawing of a cup of beer underneath the words.

 “What a place… They sell alcohol _here_?” Cid complained, as if it was sacrilege.

 “Maybe it’s supposed to be – tea?” Aerith suggested, looking closely at the picture. Barret ruled that it didn’t damn matter if they sold friggin’ alcohol or tea or juice, they had to find the damn kid – and stormed in angrily. Cloud followed him in, only to bump his nose into Barret’s back as the door swung shut behind them.

 Barret was standing motionless, staring at something – someone – in the shady bar.

 Cloud peered over his shoulder, saw who it was, and briefly wondered if he had permanently lost the ability to be surprised by anything. _Not an entirely bad thing_ – he thought as he walked past a stunned Barret and up to a wooden table where three people sat. One of them looked up when he approached. Their eyes met. It occurred to Cloud that he didn’t know why he had walked up to them instead of walking right back out, but it was too late for that anyway. Maybe it was the insistent noises of the bar, glasses clinking and low music in the background.

 “Yo,” Reno said, casually, holding up his cup. He didn’t look much surprised either. He didn’t flinch from his slouch, with his feet propped on the table. Rude glanced up from behind his dark glasses and nodded in recognition. It was almost as if they’d had previous agreement to meet here, from the general lack of surprise around the table.

 Elena didn’t take the situation as gracefully, though. She snapped around, and spotting Cloud standing right behind her, startled so intensely that she dropped the wine glass. It shattered on the floor.

 “Y, you?! How did you…?” She jumped up, stepping on and almost slipping on the pieces of glass. Her light green eyes were wide with shock. Then her expression shifted abruptly, eyes narrowed and teeth gritted.

 “Never mind that. I guess it’s fate that brought us together… get ready to die!” She snarled.

 Cloud thought she might be a Turk, blond version of Yuffie. He didn’t move.

 Elena looked confused as Cloud didn’t, in fact, get ready to die, and Reno and Rude didn’t jump up to her aid. She looked back at Reno, uncertainly. Reno was still slumped back and sipping on a dark liquid that Cloud couldn’t guess the purpose of. It smelled like onions and leather boots.

 “Elena, you talk too much,” he said.

 “What?” Elena asked, confused.

 “What are we doing –” Reno started slowly, putting the cup down on the table. He sounded annoyed, but his face remained placid. “ _Way_ out here in the middle of nowhere?” He looked at Elena, expectantly. She blinked.

 “Um… we’re… taking a vacation and resting up from our work?” She said, as if reciting something she had memorized. Reno threw his hands up into the air with a dramatic flurry.

 “Exactly!” Then, his benevolent expression quickly descending into a nasty grimace, “Only now, our vacation is ruined.”

 Rude nodded solemnly in agreement. “Even the booze tastes bad now,” he commented, sullen.

 “Oh – well – I, I’m sorry.”

 Elena reluctantly sat back down reluctantly, blushing a little. Then she whipped her head back around, and snapped at Cloud instead.

 “You’re lucky, all right. Now get out of my sight! The next time we meet, I won’t be so nice.”

 Cloud had nothing to say to that. If they weren’t going to bother him, there was no reason to make unnecessary trouble. He glanced back at Barret, who was still standing in front of the door, blocking everyone’s passage and completely unaware of it.

 Reno’s voice, now cheerful, continued; “Drink, Rude! How long have we been a team, yo?”

 There was an unintelligible grunt.

 “That long, huh?” Reno said, thoughtfully. “Well, I can’t say it’s all been candies and coconuts being a Turk… but then there were… Hey, remember that time in Costa when –”

 Reno’s voice, Rude’s dark chuckle, and the other noises of the pub got muted as the door swung close behind them.

 “Hey, what took you so long?” Aerith asked, jumping down from where she was perched on top of a high rock. Only then did Cloud realize that he had completely forgotten to ask about Yuffie.

 “Oh,” he stumbled a little, feeling their eyes on him. “I guess I forgot – there were Turks inside.”

 “Turks?” Vincent frowned.

 “The ones from before?” Aerith asked, laughing about something.

 “Yeah – Reno and Rude and Elena. But it’s okay. They’re on vacation,” Cloud said, hardly knowing what was coming out of his mouth. An odd sort of displacement had taken hold of him; maybe it was the sun – but then, the sky was overcast when he glanced up.

 “That’s alright. We went asking around ourselves while we were waiting,” Tifa said.

 “You did?”

 “Well, I didn’t. Cid did.”

 “And the friggin’ kid was so _afraid_!” Cid complained. “Damn kid… what’s there to be afraid of in ol’ Cid?” Cloud thought he could guess, the way Cid was puffing on his cigarette like he was trying to drain its soul. “Anyway, he said he saw a girl fittin’ that little troublemaker’s description going toward… what was it again?”

 “Da-Chao. It’s on the other side of the mountain.” Tifa answered.

- 

 Da-Chao was an ancient Pagoda resting deep inside the mountain. It seemed (unlike the other buildings in the area) untouched by Mako and Shinra and – _modernity_ , for a lack of a better word. An old wooden well was beside a worn stone statue, the face of which was barely distinguishable as a woman; some sort of a goddess, maybe. Pebbles piled up in little monuments lay beneath it. It might have been a beautiful garden once – but not anymore. Obviously not tended to for a long while, plants and all sorts of greenery were threatening to swallow everything else. The tiled roof of the pagoda itself was slightly sloped to the side.

 They called for someone, but nobody answered; so they entered (the door was unlocked), a little hesitantly, and found themselves in a large hall that didn’t have any furniture. No lighting; windows too small and in the wrong direction; it took a while for their eyes to adjust to the dark. When they did, they found that there was an old man sitting alone in the middle of the room.

 He was wearing a dark blue robe – a kind of attire which Cloud had never seen before. He looked up, slowly, as they came in. The door, the hinges of which were already broken, fell on the floor and sent dust flying.

 “Welcome,” his voice croaked out. Cloud thought it was all very dramatic, but something about his slanted accent made it hard to speak – to disturb the silence, and the man’s voice seemed only to be a part of it, growing out in thick branches. “To the Pagoda of the Five Mighty Gods. “

 “Old man,” Cid said, frowning. “The hell you talkin’ about?”

 “Look, we just want to –” Cloud started, on a more conciliatory note, but the man started shaking his head, quite vigorously. Dust that had gathered around him flew and hit the feeble light from the windows, exploding in the air.

 “I see you have – Mako in your eyes. If you are with Shinra, I will have to insist you leave.”

 “I –” Cloud choked on his words; didn’t know why he felt like he was lying, when he wasn’t. “I’m not with them anymore. I was a SOLDIER – now I’m not.”

 “We won’t bother you much,” Tifa said quickly. “But do you know a girl called Yuffie?”

 The old man shook his head; too quickly, Cloud thought.

“Yuffie? No, never heard of her. Now you must leave… whether you’re with Shinra or not. Even if you’re in trouble with Shinra, I don’t want the Shinra hanging around here looking over my…”

 A shrill voice interrupted him; a _familiar_ one.

 “What’s with you, you coward!” The voice yelled, piercing the stale air.

 “Yuffie…?” The old man said, stunned.

 Yuffie had appeared out of nowhere. She now stood in the middle of the room, her hands on her hips. Small and proud, face flushed with fury, glaring at the man.

 “You scared of Shinra?” She shouted.“Then why don’t you fall in line and follow ‘em, just like all of the other towns! These guys are the ones who are really fighting Shinra!”

 Then the old man’s face changed; surprise had imbued it with some life, then it slowly distorted into a scowl resembling Yuffie’s.

 “You! What would you know about this?” He huffed. Yuffie drew in a heated breath.

 “You get beaten once, and then that’s it? What happened to the mighty Wutai I used to know?”

 She looked like she might cry, but she didn’t. Cloud knew that she wouldn’t.

The old man shook his head. He had gotten up, now, straightened his back. “No kid like you is going to talk to me like that! You keep acting like that! You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” He barked. And then suddenly he didn’t look so old anymore.

 Yuffie stomped her foot. “That’s my business! Don’t you try and dictate what I should do!”

 “ _Business_? _Dictate_?” The man snorted.“Throwing around all those fancy words… You’re a miserable excuse for a daughter!”

 Barret started coughing like he had something in his throat. Come to think of it, though, they were – alike. Now the man had his hands on his hips like Yuffie…

 “And you’re a sad excuse for a father!” She spat and then ran across the room to jump out of the window. The man gritted his teeth but didn’t go to check if his daughter had made it out of the five-story-high window safely. Cloud could sort of imagine what kind of child Yuffie must have been.

 Then the man turned back to them; he looked much younger now, and in fact, didn’t look like an old man at all.

 “Well, now you know,” he grumbled, sounding so much like Yuffie that Cloud blinked at him stupidly. “I am Godo, Yuffie’s father. Now take your things and get out of here. No matter what my daughter seems to think – to protect Wutai, we cannot afford to stand up to Shinra.”

 “We were going after Yuffie, anyway,” Barret said, trying to be reassuring.

 “Going after… what has she – no, never mind,” Godo sighed, and waved them away.

- 

 They had split into groups to look for Yuffie. After some useless running around, Cloud and Tifa finally managed to corner her at the back door of the _Turtles Paradise_. The bar’s errand boy threw a wary glance but decided to ignore the happening at his door, and left it open. Cloud could still hear Reno’s occasional laughter and the chattering of the customers. He hesitated a little before grabbing Yuffie by her arm, and Tifa took the other. Yuffie tried to kick and wiggle, but Cloud’s grip remained firm.

 “You can’t get away, Yuffie,” he said. Their eyes met; Yuffie suddenly slumped, like she was resigned.

 “Oh, well… Okay, I know I was wrong. You win. I’ll give you back your Materia.”

 “Thank you, Yuffie,” Tifa said, a little bit too mildly. Yuffie grinned, sheepishly, at her.

 “Sorry, Tifa. I just thought…”

 But she was interrupted by a loud noise at the bar. The door had opened and someone had barged in. It was not hard to guess who it was, for Cloud could hear the clattering sounds of guns knocking against each other, and heavy boots. That had to be the Shinra soldiers from before. Yuffie’s eyes widened.

 “It’s okay, they won’t find us here,” he whispered quickly.

 “We’ve finally found him, sir! Get the Turks here for backup.” One soldier said, an odd mixture of respect and disregard. Cloud wondered if the person in question could possibly be himself.

 “Eh, what a drag,” Reno’s bored voice answered, distant like he was preoccupied by something else and slightly annoyed to be pulled out of the concentration.

 “What was that?” The soldier asked, a little sharply.

 “Right now we’re off duty, and therefore can’t run off to save your butts,” Reno said, his voice sleek. The soldier was lost for words for a while.

 “We realize – that you’re – but it’s –”

 “If you know, then don’t bother us!” Cloud could almost _hear_ Reno rolling his eyes. “Lookin’ at you is makin’ me sober.” Then the sound of Reno gulping down more of his drink, as if to prove his point.

 “But… you all have orders from headquarters to look for him too!”

 There was a pause. Reno said nothing.

 “All right, that’s it!” The soldier growled. “We’ll get him without any help from the Turks. Not like we need them anyway. And don’t think that headquarters isn’t going to hear about this!”

 Cloud listened to the sound of stomping footsteps, then the door slamming shut. The silence was deafening for a little while.

 Then Elena spoke. “Reno, do you think that was really such a good idea? I mean, is that the way a professional and a Turk would act?” She sounded confused, and a little irritated. Cloud guessed that the line was a favorite of Tseng’s; it sounded like something he would say.

 Reno sounded appeasing now.

 “Now, now, Elena. Don’t misunderstand. A pro isn’t someone who sacrifices himself for his job. That’s just a fool.”

 “Rude?” Elena asked. As expected, Rude didn’t say anything. Then she finally snapped.

 “Well, I’m not gonna sit around here and – and – what would Tseng say?”

 Cloud could hear the sound of her stomping out, and the half-dragging of a chair, probably Rude trying to get up. Reno stopped him.

 “Relax. She’s not a child. Let her have her way now.” He sounded mildly amused, if anything. When Cloud was sure that the soldiers had gone far enough away, he led Yuffie and Tifa out.

- 

 “Cloud!” Cid screamed, as soon as he saw Cloud. He was running wildly up the streets. The streets were a mess; Cloud stared at the misplaced sidewalk blocks and uprooted trees. Barret was fuming by a dip in the ground, but even Barret couldn’t have managed a disruption of this scale. Tifa widened her eyes at the sight.

 “What’s going on?”

 “They – he took Aerith!” Cid panted.

 Vincent suddenly appeared by their side then, in a flurry of red cloak. Nanaki came shortly after, Cait Sith sitting on his head as usual. Cloud counted the faces; everyone else was here.

 “Who did?” Vincent asked.

 “Dunno,” Cid spat into the sidewalk, looking murderous. “He said his name… forgot… a fat…”

 “Don Corneo, dammit!” Barret suddenly shouted. “It was Don goddamn Corneo!” Tifa’s face whitened.

 “Don Corneo? Like, the…”

 “Who’s Don Corneo?” Yuffie asked, but no one had the head to answer her.

 “Yeah, that Don Corneo! Dammit, he had this huge beast with him… Messed up the street and then took Aerith!”

“Where –?”

 Nobody had an answer to Cloud’s disjointed question. Then Barret suddenly remembered something else.

 “He… had another girl with him. That Turk… Elena.”

 Cloud looked up at that.

 “Then I know where to go.”

- 

 “Don Corneo has Elena.”

 Cloud said brusquely, walking right up to Reno and Rude. They were standing near the counter. Reno cocked his head to the side.

 “I _know_ ,” he said slowly.

 “Well, then?” Cid urged, impatient. Reno slammed down some paper bills on the counter. They went flying everywhere and the barkeeper frowned but knew better than to say anything. Reno shoved the wallet in his pocket and smirked to no one in particular.

 “That Corneo is good at escaping, eh?”

 “Reno, Elena.” Rude reminded him curtly. Reno shook his head distractedly.

 “Let’s go, Rude. We’ll give them a taste of what the Turks can do.” He paused. “Hey, that sounded pretty good.” Nodding to himself, he finally turned to Cloud. “And, uh…” He frowned, seeming to finally wonder what they were doing here, telling him about Elena. Cloud opened his mouth.

 “Corneo took Aerith from us, too.”

 “Oh, alright. Well, don’t misunderstand,” Reno said easily, shrugging his shoulders. “We have no intention of joining you. But for now, we’ll agree not to not join you, deal? Y’know, common purpose and your enemy is my… something about something like that.”

 Cloud nodded, diplomatically.

 “That’s fine,” he said. “We have no intention of making friends with the Turks either.”

 “Hmm, nice attitude.” Reno approved, and extended his hand. Cloud took it hesitantly. Reno continued to look solemn and wiped his palms on his shirt that was supposed to be white but wasn’t. Cloud was tempted to punch him in the face but didn’t. Reno grinned suddenly and darted out of the bar, stepping on the bills he’d thrown to the floor. Rude quickly fell in behind Reno.

 “Da-Chao,” Reno shouted back as he ran. Cloud nodded at the others and they started toward the old temple, too.

It seemed to Cloud that they were always losing and going after someone or another. He wondered if that wasn’t what he was doing, in a bigger scale, with Sephiroth.

- 

 “Oh, you’re finally here.”

 Reno sounded bored when they arrived, leaning against a tree with his arms crossed (Cloud noted that he was slightly out of breath too, but decided not to mention it in the spirit of diplomacy). Rude was standing beside him with a stern face.

 “We’re gonna split into two. You do whatever you want. But don’t drag Elena into trouble. Well,” Reno considered. “More trouble than she’s in already. Don’t worry. We won’t do anything to that girl, Aerith.”

 With that he and Rude disappeared through the trees. Was that how the Turks worked? Cloud glanced at Vincent, suddenly remembering. But Vincent’s crimson eyes were impassive.

 There was a large statue-like structure in front of the old pagoda that hadn’t been there before. And it was easy to spot two girls tied with elaborately knotted ropes to the statue and Don Corneo’s stout form by the foot of it. He turned slowly with a big grin that looked like rotten snake scale; spotted Cloud, and his grin got bigger, more disgusting.

 “Oh, it’s you… Pretty as ever, darling? And even without a dress!” He laughed, and Cloud felt an urge to kick him but stopped himself. That small control panel that Don Corneo was clutching looked suspiciously dangerous. He glanced at Aerith. Her green eyes got bigger. _Don’t worry_ ,he wanted to tell her, but didn’t know if he could.

 “Shut up, Corneo,” he said instead, trying to sound composed and flat. Don Corneo laughed again. It seemed to crawl into his spine like a dirty worm.

 “Don’t worry. I’m not interested in men – _even_ if they’re pretty.”

 “Hey, hey! I’m a Turk! Don’t think you can get away with this!” At the back, Elena shouted.

 “Ooh, maybe I’ll go with this saucy one, then,” Corneo laughed. That had Barret exploding.

 “You… damn!” He was so mad he couldn’t form the words. After a second or third try he did manage, “Midgar hyena!” Corneo looked extremely pleased with himself.

Cid barked in agreement with Barret as he stepped forward with his spear.

 “Maybe God’d forgive an ugly fart like you, but I won’t!”

 “Quiet! None of you know how much I’ve suffered since then… It’s a long story, but…” Corneo shrieked hysterically. There was an eerie glisten in his eyes. Cloud decided that Corneo had gone completely psychotic since the last time, and in this situation that only meant more trouble. He tried to see the little control panel Corneo was holding in his hand better.

 “We don’t want to hear it! Just let them go!” Tifa snapped.

 Cloud bit his lip. He didn’t know what to do.

 “You guys are serious – good, good… this ain’t no time for me to be fooling around either.”

 Then, before Cloud could say anything or even take a step forward, Corneo had pressed the little red button. Elena screamed as the statue moved sideways, closer and closer to the edge of the cliff. The nothingness at the end was terrifying; it would be a long fall.

 “Stop!” Cloud yelled, his heart suddenly jumping to somewhere near his ears. Even if he had a gun, and shot him, he didn’t know if he’d get there in time – Corneo giggled maniacally but _did_ stop the statue-machine. But it was already too close to the edge…

 Aerith had closed her eyes. Her face had gone completely white.

 Cloud didn’t know what he could do. He couldn’t say anything that might make sense to Corneo, he couldn’t fight him, not even take a step forward; not when the red button was clutched in his hand like that. Yuffie seethed beside Cloud.

 “Makes me – so – _mad_ –” She fumed, but didn’t know what to do, either. Corneo lifted his bushy eyebrows at Yuffie, amused.

 “If I push this button, they’ll fall, and we’ll have _squashed tomatoes_!”

 He then started roaring at his own remark, while Elena’s lips got more and more blue. She was breathing fast, and her eyes were darting side to side; looking for something – no, someone – where were Reno and Rude?

 “I guess I’m the last one laughing!” Corneo said, still laughing so hard as if to prove his point. His entire fat body quivered with his laughter.

 That was when a voice cut in, like it had been waiting for this precise moment to say that precise thing, like some picky film director. Cloud’s head snapped around.

 “No, that would be _us_.”

 Reno’s smooth voice carried surprisingly far, through Cloud couldn’t see him yet. Corneo frowned in confusion.

 “What? What’s going on? Who’s there?”

 Reno and Rude jumped down from a tree. Elena gasped; Aerith’s eyes flew open; Corneo took a shaky step back.

 “The… Turks?”

 “You knew this was gonna happen ever since you leaked that secret. We’re gonna take care of you… personally.”

 Reno was casual, but even before he had finished speaking, Rude had suddenly stepped forth and thrown a dagger at Corneo. It hit his hand that was holding the controls. Corneo yelped in pain and dropped the little machine. Cloud darted forward and caught the thing before it smashed into the ground, cursing the Turks and their unnecessary dramatics in his head.

 “Good timing, Rude,” Reno said, then nodded at Cloud too like they had planned this in advance. Cloud turned around and kicked Corneo in the stomach. With a _crack_ of his ribs, Corneo fell down; he stumbled, and slipped, and then he was falling from the cliff – almost. He had managed to hold onto the edge with his unhurt hand. Corneo screamed. The scream got louder when Reno walked over and stepped on his fingers. Elena’s wide eyes followed him.

 “All right, Corneo. This’ll be over quick, so listen up,” Reno said, leaning in closer. Corneo squealed but otherwise remained quiet.

 “Why do you think we went to all the trouble of teaming up with those guys –” He gestured at the general direction of Cloud. “To get you? Option number one: because we were ready to die. Two: because we were sure of victory. Three: because we were clueless.” He looked at Corneo expectantly.

 “Two… Number Two?” Corneo squealed. Reno snorted.

 “None of the above.”

 He ground his foot into Corneo’s hand. Corneo lost his grip and started falling, screaming as he went.

 There was no emotion on Reno’s face when he turned around.

 “The correct answer was, Rude?” Reno asked.

 “Because it’s our job.” Rude said, solemnly.

 “Oh, thank you guys! I never expected you’d come to help…” Elena blurted out.

 “Elena, don’t act so weak. You’re a Turk.” Reno said lightly, but Cloud thought that he heard a slightly different note in the way he said _Turk_. And he wondered if he had ever felt like that, saying he was a SOLDIER. Once, when he was a miserable young boy who dreamt of escaping into the real world and becoming a hero, he used to think SOLDIER was the magic to make all that happen. And so it made sense that somewhere along the road, he must have felt… proud? Was that the right word?

 But Cloud had grown into a man and he could not remember a time when he was proud of himself.

 That didn’t make sense, did it? He could remember when he was fourteen, when he left the small town (the town he had loathed) for a big dream. Then fifteen, finally making it to Shinra and working, training twice as hard because he was so much younger and smaller than everyone else. Sixteen, he made infantryman, and the next step was SOLDIER 3rd class. He remembered being terribly anxious about the upcoming promotion exam… He was still so young… and then,

 Seventeen?

 A wall of white suddenly cut his head in half. Cloud drew in a sharp breath at the pain. He struggled to think, still.

 Eighteen? Nineteen? My twentieth birthday?

 How could he be twenty one without ever being seventeen?

 Cloud shook his head, trying to rid himself of the pain. His heart was beating so fast. He concentrated on Elena’s voice to distract himself. Clung to every sensation: the wind brushing his nose, the crunched pebbles beneath his boots, anything to distract himself from that thought which scared him so much he would rather not think about it at all. He had a vague feeling, though, that this was not the first time that he was running away.

 Elena’s voice was distant in his ringing ears.

 “Y…yes, _sir_!” She said, straightening up, after Rude had freed her and Aerith from the machine. Aerith backed away quickly, rubbing her arms where the rope had left a shallow bruise.

 “Thanks for your help.” She smiled faintly at Rude and Reno. Reno shrugged indifferently, and Rude looked away.

 Cloud continued breathing slowly. He watched and tried to forget. The pain was going away already, and he was glad.

 Reno’s cell phone rang suddenly; an old country love song that Cloud’s mother used to hum. Barret lifted his eyebrows incredulously at the unexpected melody, but Reno didn’t seem to care. He fished it out of his pocket.

 “Yes… This is Reno.” He answered lazily, inspecting his fingernails. “Yes… yes… I’ll get right on it.” He hung up.

 “Was that the company?” Elena asked anxiously. She was still stiff from her attempted discipline. There was a slight pause, in which Reno looked at Cloud . His light green eyes were searching.

 “Well?” Rude asked. Reno finally opened his mouth.

 “Yeah… they want us to find Strife.”

 There was a sudden commotion of rustling about as everyone behind Cloud readied their respective weapons. An air of tension slipped through. Cloud instinctively grabbed the hilt of his sword, but stood motionless. He was watching Reno, who hadn’t gotten his rod out.

 “Are we on?” Rude asked, fingering his gloves. There was a short silence. Cloud could almost taste the air, seasoned with anxiety and excitement mixed and ground. It was the taste before a fight that he knew well, but Cloud doubted that they would be fighting now. After a moment, Cloud finally let go of the hilt. Reno spoke at the same time.

 “No, today we’re off duty.”

 The sudden dissipation of the strain was also tangible. The air was light again. Tifa sighed in relief. Elena looked slightly disappointed, but she fell back behind Rude without a word.

 “Well, then. Until we meet again, we’re out.”

 Reno waved a casual hand, tucked it in his pocket and slouched off. Rude followed, and Elena ran to keep up with the two of them. In a matter of minutes, the three Turks were gone.

- 

 “So that Corneo guy is a real pain. I’d rather deal with my dad than deal with that guy.”

 Yuffie made a face. Godo sat patiently, his face emotionless.

 “Yuffie, your father’s sitting right there…” Aerith said, looking incredulous and amused and stern at the same time.

 “Nah, don’t worry about it, Aerith. He’ll _live._ Anyway, here are your Materia.”

 Tifa took them gingerly. Yuffie looked a little regretfully at the shiny Materia.

 “Thanks, Yuffie, for givin’ back _what was already ours_.” Barret emphasized the last phrase, but Yuffie didn’t notice, beaming at them instead.

 “No problem. Oh, by the way, some of those guys from the Turks are good, huh? At least, after all that, we got the Materia back.” She seemed to have already forgotten who took the Materia in the first place. “Now come on everybody. Let’s go! We got a world to save!”

“You’re coming with us?” Aerith asked, laughing a little. Barret looked like he suddenly didn’t know what to do with his limbs, and Cid smirked to the walls. Nanaki humphed like he’d known all along.

Yuffie grinned. “Try and stop me.”

 But she met Cloud’s eyes a little anxiously, an unasked question in her eyes.

 “Well,” Cloud shrugged. “I would, but you’d probably ninja-kick my head in anyway.”

 Yuffie laughed, her eyes twinkling, and said, “That’s good, Cloud. I might let you keep, like, ten percent of the Materia after we stop Sephiroth and everything.”


	22. interrupted by Fireworks

21\. Interrupted by Fireworks

 

_“Bright lights, big city, she dreams of love_

_Bright lights, big city, he lives to run.”_

From _Bright Lights_ by _30 Seconds to Mars_

-

“So the temple of the ancient’s around here – way down south,” Barret said, with an air of exaggerated generosity. Cloud guessed that he was still sore from losing the bet and having to go ask around for directions.

 They were sitting on a large wooden bench near one of the excavation sites. The town had discovered a large dig beneath layers of dust and rocks a few years back, and ever since then archeologists had been filing in and out every day. It had even earned the name of “Bone Village.” Sure enough, almost everyone they came across so far was either an archaeologist or an original inhabitant of the town who was sick of archaeologists.

 “– It’s right on the other side between this town and the inland sea. It’s the pyramid that rises within the forest,” Barret’s voice continued, apparently quoting someone word-by-word.

 “So how do you get in?” Cloud asked.

It was Vincent who answered, who had also lost the bet, and appearing out of nowhere (as usual).“We’ll need a keystone.”

 He said this in his deep grinding voice, which always made everything sound so authentic even if it was something vaguely ridiculous like _we’ll need a keystone._

 “So, what’s a keystone?” Cloud asked again.

 “A keystone!”

 Yuffie jumped in just as Vincent opened his mouth. She was eager to be helpful, especially after her little “blunder” (her words).

 “Well, just like it sounds! It’s a rock that’s a key. I heard that some rich guy has it. Uh...”

 “The owner of a museum near here. In an amusement park of some kind,” Vincent said. Yuffie nodded enthusiastically.

 “Yup! That’s the one!”

 “Thanks, Yuffie.” Aerith smiled, and Yuffie continued to look proud.

 “So, I guess that’s our next destination?”

 Tifa said, jumping up and stretching her arms in all her usual sprightliness. Cloud nodded.

 “It would be nice to take a rest on a day like this, but...” He glanced at the brilliant blue of the sky. White puffs floated across lazily, casting a light silver shadow on the ground. The green of the trees sparkled. It was a perfect spring day.

 “I know, I know. We’re short on time, right?” Tifa shrugged. “That’s alright, we can take a rest after all this is over… When the world is saved and everything, yeah?”

 Tifa laughed. As her lighthearted joy was contagious, Cid was also rather cheerful as he stood up from the bench. As for Cloud, as was the usual for him, he tried not to read any meaning behind her words, any ominous signs that seemed to him forever present in every shadow, even that of the sky.

-

 “Welcome to Goldeland!”

 A giant chocobo bellowed in his face. Cloud blinked at it, not sure of what to do. The chocobo – or the Goldeland’s employee inside, as Cloud now realized – wasn’t dejected. He bent down to Yuffie instead.

 “Young lady, would you like a chocobo feather? It brings good luck!”

 He produced a yellow feather from his pocket and grinned. It was strange, especially since it was the beak of a chocobo that was grinning. Cloud thought it was rather grotesque; Cid, on the other hand, almost bawled over from laughing.

 Yuffie grinned back.

 “No, thank you. I have my personal chocobo right here!”

 She wheeled around, and before Cloud could move away, jumped and attached herself to Cloud’s back. Cloud took an involuntary step back to regain his balance. Hanging from his back, Yuffie patted his blonde spikes affectionately like he really _was_ her personal chocobo. That had everybody laughing so hard that people turned to stare. Barret started thumping Vincent’s back, roaring. Vincent’s face remained as impassive as ever, much to Cloud’s relief. But even the chocobo guy was laughing.

 “That’s great! That’s... hey, sir, would you like to work for us? I mean, you wouldn’t even need the costume...”

 “I’m fine.” Cloud gritted his teeth.

 “Please enjoy yourselves, here are your tickets... Ooh, aren’t we happy today. Makes me happy too!” The admission lady beamed at Cloud. The good mood hadn’t lifted yet, and leftover laughter still hung in the air. Barret was still giggling like a madman. Cloud tried to tell Yuffie that she was heavy, but it only met with protests from Aerith and Tifa (who were still both laughing) that it wasn’t a question for a lady.

 “An uncle?”

 The admission lady now smiled at Yuffie.

 “No,” Cloud hissed, but Yuffie’s laughter was louder.

 “Ooh, yeah. Uncle Cloud!”

-

 Yuffie finally got off Cloud’s after another ten minutes, and by the time they arrived at the museum everyone had sobered up somewhat. It was a big amusement park and a hot day.

 The museum, on the other hand, was dark and cool, and it was a relief to be inside. There were not many people around. The air was quiet – hushed.

 “Would you like admission tickets?” A lady at the front desk smiled as they filed in. Cloud shook his head.

 “No – could we talk to the owner here?”

 “Do you have an appointment, sir?” The lady looked down at her charts.

 “No, we don’t. Do we need an appointment?”

 “I’m sorry.” She smiled apologetically.

 “Awright, we’ll make an appointment, right now!” Barret put in. “How ‘bout an hour later?”

 “Well, I’m sorry, sir, but Mr. Golde made it clear that he didn’t want any visitors for a while... Ever since the visit from the Turks,” she said, then looked as if she hadn’t meant to add that last part.

 “The Turks?” Cloud asked.

 The lady hesitated a little, but continued. “Yes. A bunch of Turks came in some days ago and demanded that Mr. Golde sell a stone from his collection... for 100 gil.” She made a distasteful face. “Well, Mr. Golde is a man of integrity and he made it clear that not even God could make him sell his prized collection. He’s very proud of it, you see...”

 “Oh.” Cloud said, for a lack of a better response.

 “How about borrowing? You know, for a little while.” Tifa asked. The woman shook her head.

 “I’m sorry. Now I’m afraid you must leave, or I’ll be forced to call the guards.”

 Cloud opened his mouth, but closed it again. He couldn’t think of anything to say. The thought of just bursting inside and taking the damn stone crossed his mind for the briefest of moments. How crazy would they think Cloud was, if he told them that he was going to save the world with it? Finally, Cloud just led the group out. There must be another way.

-

 “I say we steal it, Cloud! I mean, it _is_ for the greater good and all that, right?”

 Yuffie said, as soon as they got to the hotel. They were all cramped in Vincent’s tiny room (by a series of coincidences, which had Vincent looking sullenly out the window).

 “That’s true, but still – ” Tifa said, with a dubious frown.

 “Oh, come _on_! You guys are too moral!” Yuffie rolled her eyes. “They’re all dead if Sephiroth gets his way anyway!”

 “Remember, we do not know his intentions yet,” Nanaki said. Yuffie shook her head disbelievingly, and Cloud had to agree on this one. Judging from his last encounter with Sephiroth, he highly doubted that the man’s motives would be anything less than world destruction, or domination at the very least. The question was not _what_ but _how_ and, sometimes, _why_.

 “Let’s think about this tomorrow, okay? We’ve had a long day –” Cloud said, rubbing his eyes.

 “Wait!” Cait Sith squeaked.“We don’t usually get a chance to be together like this, huh?”

 “Whaddya mean? We’re _always_ together,” Cid frowned.

 “Ain’t that fatigue I hear in your voice, Cid?” Barret guffawed. Before Cid could counter, Cait Sith was jumping up and down impatiently.

 “No, like... Not moving or fighting and like that. A chance to catch our breaths! So, Cloud, how ‘bout it? Can you tell us what’s happened so far?” Cait Sith cocked his little head. “I don’t really know what’s goin’ on because I wasn’t here in the beginning,” he explained.

 “Oh,” Cloud blinked. The situation struck him as somewhat ironic; all along, all he ever thought about was _the situation_... and there they were, his companions, who didn’t really know what the situation _was._ This had a rather sobering effect, for reasons he was too tired to think of right now.

 “Yeah, I’m all for it!” Cid leaned forward in his chair. “You said you were going after a man named Sephiroth?”

 Even Vincent nodded at the back corner where he stood, in his usual position with arms crossed. “I’d like to hear the full story,” he said.

 “I been here since the beginnin’ an’ I still don’t know what the hell’s goin’ on either.” Barret added.

 “Cloud, are you tired?” Aerith asked gently when Cloud rubbed his eyes again for the fifth for the sixth time. Cid snorted.

 “All we have now is sleep! You’re still young! What’re you complaining about?”

 “Alright, alright – no, I’m okay.”

 Cloud paused, to get the events sorted out in his head. He decided to start with the most obvious.

 “We are going after Sephiroth. Sephiroth is – must be – in search of the Promised Land.”

 “The Promised Land?” Vincent asked. His eyes gleamed a dangerous red in the dim light of the room. Cloud nodded.

 “It’s a land full of Mako energy. Or at least that’s what the Shinra believes.”

 His thoughts drifted back to a memory of Rufus Shinra, how his eyes shone with greed as he was telling Cloud of his vision, his _dream._ A land full of Mako energy. A whole new source of power for Shinra.

“I don’t know if it actually exists.” He heard himself say.

 “The Cetras return to the Promised Land. A land that promises boundless happiness,” Aerith said quietly.

 “Cetra? That some kind of a disease?” Barret asked. Tifa shook her head, disbelieving.

 “That’s what the Ancients call themselves. What’ve you been listening to all this time?” She said. Barret scratched his head.

 Aerith continued after a short pause.

 “ …You don’t _know_ where the Promised Land of the Ancients is. You search and travel, until you feel it. Like you just know, ‘... this is the Promised Land.’”

 Something occurred to Cloud then. “Aerith, can you feel it too?” he asked. Aerith smiled in a faint shadow, like she was remembering something else.

 “I think so.”

 “So Sephiroth is traveling the world because he’s searching for the Promised Land? Is that it?” Tifa asked. Aerith nodded slowly. Her deep green eyes were still lost somewhere else, though. Cloud wondered what was at the furthest end of her thoughts. Sephiroth – The Promised Land – or something else, entirely?

 “Yes. That, and the other thing he’s searching for.”

 “The Black Materia,” Cloud murmured. Yuffie jerked her head up at this.

 “The most powerful Materia in existence,” she said, in a hushed, almost reverent voice.

 “It’s all just too damn confusin’,” Barret finally decided, when the silence had gone on for a while. “I’m going to bed.” He stomped out of the room without hearing anyone’s reply.

 “I guess the situation was rather simple, after all,” Cid mused, rolling an unlit cigarette between his teeth. “There’s a bad guy, and we’re tryin’ to stop him, yeah?”

-

 Cloud had barely slumped onto his bed when there was a light knock at the door. He grimaced, but pulled himself up and walked to the door.

 “Yeah –” He opened the door, and blinked in surprise. “Uh, Aerith?”

“Hi, Cloud.” Her whole face lit up when she smiled – he had been noticing that.

 “What’s wrong?” Cloud asked, searching her face. She shook her head, like she was amused about something, and her soft brown braid shook with it.

 “Nothing’s wrong. I wanted to ask something.”

 She paused; looked up at Cloud; met his eyes. He still didn’t know what the hell was going on.

 “Yeah?”

 “Remember that deal we had?”

 “Huh?”

 Cloud wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say.

 “When you said you’d be my bodyguard – remember?” Aerith laughed a little. “Maybe you don’t.”  
 “Oh – well, yeah – I remember – now that you mention it –” Cloud said, confused about why he was lying; he had never forgotten. It only felt like a lifetime ago, that was all, but Aerith was smiling at him like it was this morning. “Um,” Cloud stammered. “You mean, right now?”

 “Yeah, why not?” Aerith said, lightly. “Who knows what’ll happen tomorrow?”

She took his hand, which had been hanging limply by his side like it didn’t belong there. It now flinched, shocked at the sudden warmth. Cloud felt somewhat detached from his hand as Aerith pulled him along.

 “But where are we going?”

“We don’t have to go anywhere,” Aerith laughed. “We’re already in an amusement park. Isn’t that so great?”

-

 “Congratulations! You are our 100th couple today!!”

 “Huh?” Cloud looked around, disorientated. The amusement park at night was something else entirely. It had soft and bright lights that cast an almost magical look on everyone’s face. Would have almost been beautiful, if not for a hideous clown beaming at them now. All the other ninety-nine couples seemed to be cheering.

 “What a nice looking couple you are!” The clown complimented. Well, Aerith _was_ beautiful, Cloud thought, then was surprised at his own thought.

 “I know, he’s a keeper, isn’t he?” Aerith was all smiles, and Cloud thought she was joking but wasn’t sure – the colorful lights were all over his eyes. The clown let out a hearty laugh.

 “Indeed, indeed! In fact, you two will be the perfect leads in tonight’s show!”

 “Wha...” Cloud started to say, but the clown didn’t let him finish.

 “Oh, now. It’s not hard. Just play it however you want to and the rest of the cast will cover for you. Come this way!”

 The man took Aerith’s hand and Aerith took Cloud’s.

 “But...”

 But, _but_. He glanced back doubtfully at all the people watching. Him, on a stage? On a damn _stage?_ He hadn’t been on a stage since preschool, and even then it was against his will. One of the cast had fallen sick and the teacher made Cloud take her place.

 The memory was etched so painfully in his head that Cloud had developed a kind of stage fright, and he tried to convey that to Aerith now but couldn’t get the words out. She looked so – _excited_ , damn it, and Cloud just stared, hopeless.

 “This sounds like fun! Come on, Cloud. Let’s do it!” She looked up at Cloud, and the lights played tricks on her face, the clown was grinning stupidly, the air was light and a little dizzy, like alcohol. What could he possibly do?

 “Oh, well... I guess...”

 “Thanks, Cloud!” Aerith grinned. Then they were sent up to the stage.

 “What, just like this?” Cloud whispered furiously to the clown. He smiled broadly.

 “I told you, just do whatever! We’ll make the story with you. It’s a fun challenge we have every month!”

 “But I...”

 “Oops! The show is starting!”

 He pushed Cloud on the back, and Cloud came stumbling out into the blinding yellow light of a frighteningly empty stage. Some prop trees and a chair that looked out of place were all he could take in. He tried not to turn his head and see all the people staring at him. In fact, he tried hard not to think about that at all. His heart was beating faster than usual. He felt sick, like some dark memory was crawling inside his stomach... He suddenly remembered he had been called _Cloudia_ for the next two years before he moved on to primary school. He really hated it, but of course no one had cared about that.

 The narration began.

 “Long, long ago... An evil shadow appeared over the peaceful kingdom of Galdia... Princess Rosa was just kidnapped by the Evil Dragon King, Valvados. What will become of her?”

 A tragic, sad melody enveloped the stage. _Why is there no one on the stage but me?_ Was all Cloud could think. He tried not to panic.

 “Just then, the legendary hero, Alfred comes along!”

 The music changed to a majestic theme. Trumpets boomed, hurting Cloud’s ears. A man dressed in a knight’s armor came stumbling out. He struck his arms out dramatically, all the flashy metal clattering. The sound was even noisier than the trumpets.

 “Oh... you must be the legendary hero, Alfred!”

 Then Cloud realized, with a sickening heart, that the knight was waiting for him to say something.

 “I just...”

 Cloud choked. The knight carried on like he had heard a beautiful speech.

 “I know in my soul. Please... please save princess Rosa.”

 Then he fell on his knees, sobbing. The music changed to a tragic theme again. The king walked onto the stage. He looked pained, possibly because he was wearing a huge golden crown that was almost as big as his head.

 “Oh... legendary hero, Alfred. You have come to save my beloved Rosa...” Fortunately, he didn’t wait for Cloud’s response. “On the peak of a dangerous mountain... dwells the Evil Dragon King, Valvados...”

 And so the legendary hero, Alfred, embarked on a journey to rescue princess Rosa. All Cloud had to do, for the most part, was just stand there and the extras did everything else. They talked, cried, laughed, cursed, fought each other, and bumped into Cloud and fell.

 “Oh, what is going to happen now... You beat me, the all-powerful wizard!”

 One man who tripped on his own robe said to Cloud, writhing in pain on the ground. He suddenly drew in a sharp breath and turned his head. The music got so loud by that point that Cloud actually felt physical pain.

 “Oh... legendary hero... look! The Evil Dragon King, carrying the princess!” He shrieked and pointed. Cloud followed his finger and almost choked.

 Aerith was riding a wagon of some kind, because the Evil Dragon King was too weak to actually carry her. She was wearing a white dress that looked to Cloud suspiciously like a wedding dress. It fell in soft folds out of the wagon, swirling like gentle sea waves. Aerith looked a little awkward but for the most part amused, and she was looking at Cloud. Cloud just stared at her. Her eyes were a thousand different sparkles of emerald.

 The all-powerful wizard on the ground hissed, because the princess was supposed to look afraid, not smiling. The Evil Dragon King improvised.

 “Gaah! I am EDK! You see I have not hurt the princess...”

 “EDK?” Cloud had to ask. The king stomped his foot impatiently.

 “The Evil Dragon King! And I have been... expecting you!” He pointed a finger at Cloud. Aerith covered her mouth with her hand, stifling a laughter.

 “Oh... please help me... legendary hero!”

 At least she tried. Cloud felt so silly now that he couldn’t take it anymore. As the knight, the EDK and the all-powerful wizard were readying themselves for the epic battle, Cloud walked right through the noise and up to Aerith. She looked up at Cloud curiously. Not sure of what to do, Cloud just stood there for a moment. It was a long moment – amongst all the silliness and stupidity, Aerith shined alone like a pearl in the sea. Still locking her eyes with Cloud’s, she held out her hand to him. It was suddenly so quiet. Everyone had stopped, and Cloud knew without a doubt that they would be watching him right now, but he couldn’t seem to care anymore.

 Cloud knelt on one knee, took her hand and kissed it softly. He looked up and Aerith was smiling. He didn’t let go of her hand.

 It was a long moment again, when Cloud looked into her eyes and she into his. Above everything, he could hear his heartbeat ringing so clearly in his ears.

 The EDK improvised again; he suddenly fell on the floor, thrashing about in agony. He shielded his eyes with one hand, as if blinded by the light emanating from the princess.

 “Arrggh! Curses... the power of... love!! I’m dying...”

 He screamed and squirmed his way out of the stage. Princess Rosa’s father dragged himself onto stage instead.

 “Oh, look! Love has... triumphed! Now let’s all return and celebrate!”

 “Yes, let’s... yes let’s!” The wizard threw his hat up into the air and failed to catch it again. Aerith giggled.

 “Why, thank you, Cl... I mean, Alfred. I suppose I will be his bride, then, father?” She looked up at the king. The king spun around in a joyful dance. The crown almost flew out from his head but he caught it with one hand.

 “Indeed, indeed, my beloved daughter! You will be his bride, and you two will live happily ever after!” He winked at Cloud. The curtain started to fall, and the play was over.

 There was a surprisingly loud cheer from the crowd as the red curtain came down haltingly. The narrator had to speak louder to be heard.

 “Oh, how profound the power of love... And so the legendary hero Alfred and our princess live on happily ever after! Thank you for coming, everybody, and see you next month!”

-

 “So that was fun, yeah?”

 Aerith had changed into her own clothes now, but she was still a bit flushed. Cloud felt a little warm himself. Aerith was leading him again, walking just a step ahead of him. He wondered where they were going now, but didn’t ask. Anywhere would be okay.

 “Yeah. It was fun.” Cloud said, and Aerith beamed at him.

 Cloud looked around when Aerith stopped walking. The lights were dimmer here, the darkness enveloping them comfortably. They were in front of a large Ferris wheel that looked out at an empty night sky. Aerith walked up to the ticket lady.

 “Two, please.”

 “Here you are, two tickets. Enjoy the sights of the Goldeland!”

 “Thanks! Come on, Cloud.”

 There were not many people on the Ferris wheel. They got one compartment for themselves, and soon it began to move. Cloud sat opposite of Aerith, and was suddenly struck by the proximity. He sat rigid, not sure what to feel. Aerith was busy looking out the window. They had started a firework show. The empty sky was now a perfect canvas for the colorful play of lights, exploding into radiant bursts.

 “Oh! Look, Cloud. It’s so pretty... It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

 “Yeah.” Cloud answered, not really looking. He was looking at Aerith.

 At length, she turned away from the window. Cloud knew instinctively that she had something on her mind, something she wanted to say. He waited in patience. After some minutes she started to speak, but Cloud didn’t really get it at first.

 “First off, it bothered me how you were exactly the same.”

 “Huh?”

 Cloud stopped staring at his knees and looked up at Aerith. She was lost in thought again, almost talking to herself, fingering her long braid.

 “Two completely different people, the opposite, almost... but still, you’re so similar... I’ve seen you fight. I don’t know much about fights but I’ve seen him fight, too. I know it’s the same. Maybe it’s the SOLDIER thing...?”

 She looked at him questioningly. Cloud didn’t know what to say. Aerith continued on.

 “Anyway, it’s other things too. Like how you walk, your gestures, your eyes... the color of the sky. So pretty.” She said, as if quoting from someone else. Cloud still didn’t know what to think, so he just sat still and stared at Aerith. “I think... I must have seem him again, in you.”

 She smiled, but it was transient. She shook her head quickly, then looked straight at Cloud like she was seeing him for the first time. She spoke slowly.

 “But you’re different. Things... are different.”

 Cloud nodded stiffly. It was somehow getting harder to breathe, maybe because the compartment was getting smaller and smaller... was that possible?

 “I want to see you,” she said, cryptically, classic Aerith-style.

 “But I’m right here,” he said without thinking.

 “I know, I know.” She laughed softly.“What I mean is...”

 But he never got to hear what she meant, because just then, the lights exploded outside the window and it was the brightest firework so far.

 Red, yellow, orange, green, white, purple. Glitters and twinkles of gold and silver came pouring in through the window. The lights cast vivid shadows dancing across Aerith’s face. For the third time in that short night, Cloud felt the moment stretched to eternity. A moment so full and complete that it was an universe of its own.

 The array of lights playing tricks on his eyes? Perhaps.

 But he knew that he would never forget this moment in a closed compartment of a Ferris wheel, not in a lifetime. The delicate vibration of the air, the darkness. The colors, the smell of newly painted seats, his hands on his knees clenched so tight they were hurting. And Aerith. Her face, her eyes, her curious smile. Everything. Nothing. He would forget nothing.

-

 “I had fun tonight. Let’s do it again sometime.”

 She was humming playfully as they walked side-by-side, back to the hotel. The night was already thick and heavy; he would have a hard time waking up in the morning, but he didn’t mind.

 “Next time,” Aerith said. “Let’s take our time and go on more rides.”

 “Next time?” Cloud wondered out loud. Aerith nodded.

 “Yeah, when the fights are all over and I can go back to being... just Aerith. Not the last-surviving-Ancient-girl. Makes me feel like a fossil.”

 “Yeah,” Cloud grunted. _When the fights are all over_ was looking pretty far off now. “What – I mean, what do people do when they...” Cloud searched for the right word. Aerith wheeled around, a playful smiled on her face.

 “When they go on a date? Hmm, let’s see. We could eat at a nice restaurant. We could go to a play together. We could go to a park....” The list went on and on. Cloud felt dizzy listening to all that, but he felt a strange flutter, too.

 “Okay, so what do people _not_ do?” Cloud asked again. Aerith laughed. Her laughter rang clearly in the night air.

 “Oh, you’re funny. I guess people do almost everything... They can do most anything as long as they do it together.”

 “Okay,” he said. Something was on the tip of his tongue, something scary that he wasn’t sure he got it right in his head – but then, before it could come out, Aerith said, “Hey – isn’t that... what’s Cait Sith doing?”

 Aerith stopped walking. Cloud followed her gaze, and found the toy cat lurking in front of the museum, looking furtive. He had something in his arms. Cloud narrowed his eyes; a stone; if he had to guess, it was almost certainly the keystone, although he didn’t know how Cait Sith could have gotten hold of it.

 “Hey! Cait Sith!” Cloud called.

 Cait Sith turned, started, and began running the opposite way.

 Without another word, Cloud grabbed hold of Aerith’s hand and started running after him.

 They eventually arrived at a large square, which was empty except for one helicopter. And to Cloud’s horror, Tseng climbed out of it. He heard Aerith gasp beside him.

 “Here!” Cait Sith called to Tseng and threw the keystone. Cloud ran, but it was too late. Tseng caught it deftly with one hand and immediately climbed back into the helicopter. When Cloud and Aerith arrived near Cait Sith, the Shinra helicopter was already flying too high to reach.

 Cloud turned to Cait Sith after watching it fly away.

 “Hey!”

 “W, wait a second. I won’t run or hide.” Cait Sith held up both his hands. Cloud’s head boiled with frustration that was dangerously getting close to rage, but he stepped back.

 Cait Sith dropped his head.

 “Yes, I was a spy. I was hired by the Shinra.” He admitted in a timid voice.

 “How…” Aerith narrowed her eyes. Cait Sith shrugged his little shoulder.

 “I couldn’t help it. How ‘bout if we continue like nothing ever happened?” He said hopefully, and that did it for Cloud. He couldn’t believe that they had lost the keystone, right in front of their eyes. He had let a Shinra spy travel with the group. He had screwed up.

 “Forget it,” he growled, stepping closer. “Like nothing ever happened? You really think we could do that?”

 “Then, what are you goin’ to do? Kill me? You’d just be wastin’ your time if you tried. This body’s just a toy anyway.” Cait Sith looked sheepish, but said it defiantly. Like he was trying to protect something; or to prove something, it didn’t matter. He glared at the floating toy cat, trying to control his emotion. Cait Sith continued on.

 “My real body’s at Shinra Headquarters in Midgar. I’m controlling this toy cat from there.”

 “So you’re from Shinra. Who? Who are you?” Aerith was angry too, he could tell, by the strained quietness of her voice.

 “I can’t tell you my name...” Cait Sith said evasively. Cloud let out a frustrated sigh.

 “We’re not gettin’ anywhere.”

 “See? I told you! Talking won’t do any good, so can’t we just continue...?”

 “You think I’m joking?” Cloud almost laughed. Cait Sith flinched.

 “ … Alright, yes, I am a Shinra employee. But we’re not entirely enemies. I think... it’s your way of life.”

 “What?” Cloud hesitated at this abrupt and incomprehensible observation. Cait Sith hurried to explain.

 “You don’t get paid. You don’t get praised. Yet you still risk your lives and continue on your journey. Seeing that makes me... It just makes me think about my life.” He finished.

 “So? What’s the point?” Cloud gritted out. “We can’t go on with someone like that. Once a spy, always a spy.”

 “... Just as I thought. Talking won’t make a bit of difference,” Cait Sith said, regretfully. “But I prepared something in case this happened. Why don’t you listen to this?”

 Then his voice changed. No – it wasn’t him speaking anymore. His lips were closed, and a different voice was coming out from his body. Almost like a radio, or a phone... and it was a voice he knew well.

 “Daddy! Tifa!”

 “Marlene?” Aerith gasped, covering her mouth. Marlene’s voice changed, recognizing Aerith.

 “Hey! It’s the flower lady! Listen...”

 Her voice was cut out then. Cait Sith looked at them with regretful solemnity.“So, you have to do as I say.”

 “ …You’re...” Cloud couldn’t find the right word to say what he meant. He was glad that Barret wasn’t here with them – he would have broken the toy cat machine right here, without thinking about the consequences. Cloud was tempted to do that right now but he was the leader. He had to hold back. He had to think about the consequences.

 “I didn’t want to do this... using dirty tricks and taking hostages... But this is how it is. No compromises. So why don’t we continue on as we did?”

 “I don’t have a choice, do I?” Cloud gritted his teeth. The burning red was fading, but he still felt the remnants of that rage and indignation, betrayal and disappointment in himself.

 “No, you don’t.” Cait Sith said calmly.


	23. Black

22\. Black

_“If I could be with you tonight I would sing you to sleep_

_Never let them take the light behind your eyes_

_One day I’ll lose this fight, as we fade in the dark_

_Just remember you will always burn as bright.”_

From _The Light Behind Your Eyes_ by _My Chemical Romance_

_Goodbye,_

_-_

 Aerith felt Cloud’s eyes on her the whole time. He knew something was wrong, and he was trying to figure out what it was. Aerith saw him frowning. It made her laugh, poor Cloud. Her laugh only confused him further.

 “So, this is it,” Cait Sith said. He bounced a few steps ahead of them. Aerith looked up and found an ancient temple high up in the mountains. There were white marble stairs leading up to it. A maze of trees at the foot of the hill which grew scarce as her eyes traveled up. They looked like jewels to her, the trees, deep green, light green, yellow green. All of them like emeralds - a cascade of jewels that fell in waves from the top to fall into a splash, a pool by the foot. At the top of it stood a small white temple, shining against the sun like a tiny white pearl.

 “It’s beautiful,” Aerith said. Cloud looked at her, and she could tell that he was trying to figure out if Aerith was still mad about Cait Sith. The truth was, though, that anger did not last long in Aerith. The Planet was so huge that her tiny flicker of red got lost in the lifestream, in all that green.

 But the others, they were all still angry. Barret was furious that Marlene had been taken hostage; it took Cloud and Vincent and Nanaki to stop him from smashing Cait Sith on the spot. Curiously (or perhaps not so much), Tifa did nothing to stop Barret. Yuffie was confused, pouting still. Cid murmured something about the toy cat looking suspicious from the beginning. _Too goddamn cheerful._

 All the while, Aerith was feeling a warmth of scarlet beating in her chest;  tender, soft, fragile. Human hearts beat like miracles.

 “This is the Temple of the Ancients, all right. I know, I feel it,” she said.

 “Feel what?” Cid asked; Cid was a scientist and an engineer, and he had a natural suspicion towards anything that didn’t have a formula. Aerith only smiled.

 “The knowledge of the Ancients, floating. For the future. For us.”

 She was reading whispers in the wind. The familiar thud in her whole being, the warmth, the color green. The color of the lifestream that surrounded everybody. Aerith closed her eyes. As if as an answer, a wind breezed past her.

 “What are you saying? Do you - know what it’s saying?” It was Cloud. Aerith opened her eyes to meet his.

 It surprised her that he should be looking at her with those blue eyes, she didn’t know why.

 “No, not really. I think we’d need to go inside to find out.”

 She led the way into the temple. Walked the steps one by one. Each step she took, she felt the air change, the wind shift, the silent smell of trees and forest melting and twirl around her.

Inside the temple, though, the colors and light cut off abruptly, and before she could process what she was seeing, Cloud was pushing forward with a certain sense of responsibility, shielding her from - Tseng, she found, who was slumped against the altar in the middle of the room. The strip of sunlight disappeared from his face as Tifa shut the door behind them with a _thud_. The flickering orange light from the torches cast shadows on the walls. Tseng opened his eyes slowly. There was no blood, but he was in pain. Aerith felt his injured heartbeats getting weaker.

 “Aerith,” Tseng coughed. Aerith sat herself in front of him, looking into his eyes. Deep black. It made her sad to watch and remember. She stood up and turned; heard Tseng’s voice echo behind her.

 “It’s not the Promised Land that... Sephiroth is searching for,” he was saying in a staggering whisper, presumably to Cloud.

 “Sephiroth? He’s inside?” Barret said.

 “Look… for yourself…” Tseng said. He coughed again; blood spilled this time, she could smell it. Yuffie squirmed. “Letting Aerith go was the beginning of our… downfall,” Tseng said, with uncharacteristically brutal honesty. “The President was wrong.”

 Aerith turned at the mention of her own name.

 “You’re wrong,” she told Tseng, softly, as if he could hear it better that way. “The Promised Land isn’t like what you imagined. And I wasn’t going to help you anyway. The Shinra couldn’t have won.”

 She walked away before Tseng could answer to her face, thinking that he hadn’t changed much over the last five years since the incident. She heard Tseng murmur something about a keystone. She remained where she was facing the wall, tracing the patterns on the stones. She heard footsteps and didn’t need to turn around to know who it was.

 The footsteps stopped just behind her. There was a pause. Tseng was still talking, presumably something important, but it didn’t reach Aerith where she was.

 “You crying?”

 And he sounded so awkward, so young all of a sudden, that despite everything Aerith had to smile. She felt it spread across her face like a drop of water on the surface of a lake, rippling softly. She shook her head and turned around to face Cloud. The orange lights cast dancing shadows on the side of his face.

 “I’m not crying. It’s sad, that’s all,” Aerith explained. Cloud nodded slowly. Aerith thought he would’ve nodded like that too if she had said Tseng was her brother. Cloud would have just nodded to anything and that would’ve been that.

 Tseng was just handing a small square-shaped stone to Cid. Cid promptly shoved it in Cloud’s hand.

 “Where’ve _you_ been? Aren’t ya the leader of these miserable numbskulls?”

 “Hey, that includes you too, old man!” Yuffie jumped.

 “I’m not –”

 “What do we do with the keystone?” Aerith asked. Tseng pointed at the top of the altar, to a small square dent just big enough for the stone to fit in. Aerith smiled, an apology for the things that had to turn out this way.

 Cloud put the keystone in the dent. Gears clicked and whirred. The floor in front of them slid sideways to reveal a staircase leading down. A set of footsteps was on the otherwise undisturbed layer of dust. Tseng going down; but not climbing up. He must have taken another route.

 Aerith didn’t look back; felt that it would be the last time, somehow, and it scared her. She took a step down the stairs. Then another, and another.

 The stone hatch slammed shut as soon as Tifa, the last of them, made all the way down the stairs. Everybody jumped at the sound. Vincent was up the stairs in another second. His long, pale fingers searched the smooth stone ceiling. It almost looked as if the door itself was a figment of their imaginations.

 “No exits. We can’t turn back this way.” Vincent said. No answers. Cloud stared at the ceiling for a while, then started walking without saying anything. Dust and crumbs fell occasionally. Torch lights flared on the wall; dyed the corridors deep orange. Still shadows lingered in the corners.

 We have been waiting for you.

 Aerith stopped suddenly. Her heart was beating fast. She quickly fell behind. Vincent was the first to look back when Aerith didn’t walk on.

 “What is it?” He asked.

 We have been waiting long.

 “I’m sorry,” Aerith answered. Her voice came out as a whisper that echoed. Yuffie took a step closer to her.

 “What? What are you sorry for, Aerith?” She asked. Everybody was confused. Aerith found Cloud’s gaze and held it. She hoped she sounded sure when she spoke.

 “I’m hearing their voices.” She said as an explanation.

 “Voices? Whose?” Cid asked.

 “The Ancients…” It was Cloud who answered.

 “They said they’d been waiting a long time for me.” Aerith closed her eyes. Senses rushed through her. She could hear the sound of Vincent’s cloak brushing the wall. Yuffie shuffling uncomfortably. The rhythmic _tap, tap_ of Cid’s spear on the ground.

 She could also hear the voices, the murmurs, clear and strong and pure, the energy and lifestream pouring into it unfiltered.

 “They say… they’ve been away from their Planet for a long time. To protect this Temple. Over the many years they’ve lost the ability to talk.”

 “So they can only talk to you? Because you’re an Ancient?” Tifa asked. Aerith shook her head.

 “They’re not exactly… talking to me. Communicating. But not talking.” She tried to explain. She could see that it made no sense. But the warmth, the sense of direction that flooded her with every emotion she’d ever felt! How could she explain that?

 “There is only one objective for those left in the Temple, and that…”

Abrupt ending. Aerith opened her eyes in alarm. The feeling had stopped. Aerith felt all her senses numb like cold water had been splashed all over. The echoes faded. The warmth was gone. There was only a faint trace of an emotion left in the air.

 “What? What’s wrong?” Yuffie asked. Aerith shook her head slowly, dazed.

 “I… don’t know. It suddenly stopped. Just… stopped. I didn’t get the rest. But it looks like they’re afraid.”

 “Of what?” Vincent asked. His body tensed. Aerith shook her head, but she shared his unease. Everybody did.

 “Is it because Sephiroth is in the Temple… do you think?” Tifa asked quietly.

 “Maybe,” Cloud said. Aerith couldn’t see beyond his silent face, even with her heightened senses.

 “Guess we’ll never know ‘less we keep goin’.” Barret decided, then started walking again. Aerith followed the group a step behind. She wished the voices would return.

- 

 Cloud thought about what Aerith had heard. He wondered how they sounded.

 He wondered if he was hearing voices too (maybe not the Ancients, but something else more real and substantial than his cracked mind), and just not knowing it.

 As they made their way deeper into the strange temple, they came across a break in the familiar pattern. There was a hole in the wall, just a small dent. Cloud slid his fingers over the wall. Smooth. Nothing happened. But when Aerith touched the surface, the wall began to glow. It was a glow that Cloud knew well.

 “What the –? What is that?” Yuffie jumped back. Aerith stayed where she was. Bright green light started pouring out through the cracks. The glow of Mako – the lifestream? Everybody stared as the glow took a form of liquid and gathered beneath the hole in a small puddle. It then melted into the air around, scent sweet and sour and a little sad; wasted away. It felt like remnants, remains.

 “What is it, Aerith?” Nanaki asked quietly. Aerith didn’t take her eyes off the glimmering puddle.

 “It’s full of the knowledge of the Ancients. No, not knowledge… consciousness… a living soul. It’s trying to say something,” She paused. Leaned forward, as she would to a child. Tender and gentle. “ … I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”

 Cloud wasn’t sure if she was talking to the consciousness, or to them. He crouched down beside her. He watched her watch the light puddle. The green glow was casting a green shadow on her. Shimmering, dancing.

 “Wait, I think I hear… Danger?”

 Nanaki growled softly as he looked around, up, down for any signs of danger. Aerith closed her eyes.

 “An evil… consciousness? …Show. You’re going to show me?”

 “Whaddya mean sh…”

Before Barret could finish, Cloud felt his entire world shake. He thought it was an earthquake, but his surrounding still looked calm. The puddle was still on the ground, unmoving and without even a single ripple on the surface. He gripped his own arm; he wasn’t shaking, either. He met Tifa’s wide eyes and knew she was experiencing the same thing. Aerith still had her eyes closed.

 She looked so peaceful that he was suddenly afraid. He thought he might lose her, but couldn’t say why.

 Then his vision shifted. He was witnessing something entirely new. The scene was a little hazy, like watching an old film, but he could recognize the face. It was Tseng, standing in front of a mural, observing it. Cloud couldn’t quite make out the exact shapes of the mural. It was intricate and vast.

 “It’s showing us,” Cloud heard Aerith murmur and saw her open her eyes without really seeing. He was still watching the strange scene. He saw that Tseng was now running his palms across the mural.

 There was another presence. Elena walked into the frame. The vision shifted slightly to include her. Then their voices, which was a little like hearing them underwater.

_Sir, I mean, Tseng, what’s this? Can we find the Promised Land with this?_

 … _I wonder._ Tseng answered, looking thoughtful. _Anyway, we have to report to the President._

 _Okay, I’m on it. And…_ Elena hesitated. Tseng turned around to look at her.

_Yes?_

_Be careful, Tseng._

_Don’t worry about me._

 Cloud couldn’t see Elena’s face, only the back of her head. The scene blurred a little bit as  Elena exited, and Tseng was left alone. He took a step back trying to see more of the mural.

 _Is this the Promised Land? No, it can’t be…_ He murmured. He turned his head, seemingly noticing something out of the frame. His black eyes widened. Then he said,

 Sephiroth…?

 “So you opened the door. Well done.”

 Cloud almost jumped and looked back. He thought Sephiroth had come inside the room with them. His voice, unlike Tseng and Elena’s, rang clear and deep, like he was right behind them. But then Sephiroth walked into the frame with Tseng. Tseng backed away, an anxious expression coloring his black and white features.

 This place… what is it?

 “A lost treasure house of knowledge. The wisdom of the Ancients… I am becoming one with the Planet,” Sephiroth answered.

 Cloud watched the familiar features. The familiar gestures. The graceful way in which he carried himself.  

 One with the Planet?

 “I’m sure _you_ have never even thought about it.” Sephiroth moved in closer. One emotion was clear on his face, even in the hazy screen: disdain.

 “All the spirit energy of this Planet. All its wisdom… knowledge… I will meld with it all. I will become one with it… it will become one with me.”

 You can do that?

 “The way lies here.”

 That was so familiar too. How you’d blink your eye, take a breath, then Sephiroth would be flying, slashing, cutting, retreating. The perpetual smirk on his face. It was disdain and a little bit of pity, too; pity for all that was weak. How he stood on top of them all, wearing a crown of blood and tears. Fire, lust, power.

 Tseng fell to the ground.

 “Only death awaits. But not to fear. For it is through death that a new spirit energy is born. Soon, you will live again as a part of me.”

 The scene blurred, shook, and was finally gone.

 Cloud blinked, trying to clear his vision. Colors came back first. He took in the shimmering green of the puddle, then deep green of Aerith’s eyes. The grey stone walls. He remembered where he was.

 “Did you see it?” Aerith asked.

 “I saw it.” Tifa answered. She was still looking dazed.

 “Oh, grossness!” Yuffie squirmed. “ _Live again as a part of me.”_ She dropped her voice low mimicking the deep grind of Sephiroth’s voice.

 “So what’s the catch?” Cid grumbled.

 “ … Where is the room with the pictures on the walls?” Cloud said.

 “Almost there,” Aerith answered, getting up, pointing further down the corridor. The dark gap between the torches were becoming wider. Cloud didn’t know how far down the ground they’d come. Judging by the heaviness of his chest, pretty deep. The corridors were becoming narrower too.

 “Sephiroth is here.” He said, mostly to distract himself from the heaviness in his chest. “In this Temple. And it’s going to end here. I’m gonna take him out.”

 He wondered if he really believed most of what he said. Sometimes he had doubts. Sometimes he thought he might just be fooling himself.

 “You mean _we_ are, right?” Barret said.

 “We’re here too, you know.” Tifa raised an eyebrow.

 “I know.” Cloud answered, simply, it being the only thing he could say.

 “I have nothing to do with it, but I guess I’ll lend a hand.” Yuffie said generously. Barret scoffed.

 “Guess you youngsters gotta be enthusiastic like that,” Cid growled.

- 

 The mural room was a circular room with complicated veins of paintings stretching far, now merging, now dividing. People, buildings, suns, waters, fires. They seemed to be showing a progression. Cloud swept his eyes across them, following their story.

 People were standing outside the Temple.

 They were walking in a long procession, in the second painting.

 They were standing around the altar in the Temple. The one that Tseng had leaned on.

 They were now standing near a low table with two jar-like objects on it.

 A woman was holding a black object high above her head; Black Materia. The black paint was generously splashing around the sphere in a vaguely swirling shape, depicting its power. Above, in the sky, a meteor was falling and leaving a burning tail like a scar.

 People were looking about; confusion, chaos.

 The last painting: people were dying in flames, like in Nibelheim. Cloud stared at that part a little longer than the rest before he forced his eyes off.

 His head was starting to ache.

 “This is the room with the murals…” Aerith said.

 “Where are you?” Cloud muttered. _Where are you, Sephiroth?_

 Head throbbing, squeezing his veins and pressing his temples. The world did a spin. Cloud blinked. Then another. Then he was there.

 “Sephiroth!” Somebody yelled. It could have been Barret, it could have been Cid, or Tifa, or Aerith, or it didn’t really matter. Cloud was staring at him and that was all there was for the prolonged moment. Sephiroth. Sephiroth.

 He was walking toward Cloud now.

 Like they were still friends, Sephiroth was smiling. Cloud watched Sephiroth walk closer. He couldn’t find the strength to move a finger; he just watched.

 “I’m always near,” he said, and Cloud realized after a beat that he was answering his question. His deep voice sparked something in him, a feeling of hatred cold empty sadness and it was going to explode.

 “Come.”

 Sephiroth smiled.

 He walked to one of the murals, the mural depicting a meteor-fall and the woman with the Black Materia. Cloud watched himself following Sephiroth.

 “I don’t understand,” Cloud said. Sephiroth pointed the painting.

 “Look closely,” he told Cloud, sounding amused about something.

 “At what?” Cloud didn’t know what they were doing, having a conversation like this, calmly, like it had all been a dream.

 “At that which adds to the knowledge of…” Sephiroth paused, narrowing his eyes at Cloud. He was looking for something on his face.

 And evidently, he found it. Sephiroth’s smirk broadened, twisted.

 I am becoming one with the Planet.

 He whispered the last words. Cloud found himself paralyzed; he watched himself watching Sephiroth walk away. Strangely silent. He could not move a muscle. He noticed that the room was empty. Where had the others gone? Vision, sprawling, twisting, turning, exploding. Dark and then light and then something in between. He felt his back hit the mural wall, noted it was cold and hard without knowing what that meant. Protruded edges of uncut stones scraped his back as he slid down. He tried getting up, but couldn’t. He heard a voice, or two, or three… Calling? Shouting…

 He was falling into something endless and very dark, something more frightening than anything else any bloody massacre he had seen so far it had the color of sickly green Mako and swirling forever trapped inside his own body and

 And he heard something else.

- 

 Wake up!

- 

 He opened his eyes. He couldn’t remember when he’d closed them. His vision was blurry, swaying. He focused on what he could see. The black… the silver…

 Sephiroth’s back. He had his back to him. Slowly the sounds came back, creeping in like a puddle slowly spreading after a rainfall. The trickling water, sound of wind. And something else. Her voice; he was confused - was that what woke him? He seemed to remember someone’s voice...

 “One with the Planet… but how are you going to do that?” Aerith asked.

 It was coming from far away. No, close; she was talking to Sephiroth, who was blocking the entrance to the room Cloud was slumped in. And Cloud now saw that it wasn’t the mural room after all. Just a spare dark room, nothing but leaking ceiling and rough stone walls. Very dark. The faint orange glow from the outside, which Sephiroth was almost blocking entirely anyway, was the only source of light. Aerith was out there. Probably others, too, but Cloud couldn’t see them and they couldn’t see him.

 “Simple.” Sephiroth, answering. Voice smooth and easy. “Once the Planet is hurt, it gathers Spirit Energy to heal the injury. The amount of energy gathered depends on the size of the injury.”

 Cloud took a breath. He tried to move. His whole body felt paralyzed. Won’t listen to him. Frustration, desperation clawed at him from the inside. Sephiroth was right there, with his back turned, not watching him. If he could just…

 Cloud glanced at his sword lying limp not far from him; tried to reach out to it, but only his fingers twitched helplessly.

 “ … What would happen if there was an injury that threatened the very life of the Planet? How much energy would be gathered? And at the center of that injury…”

 Cloud stretched out his fingers again. This time, they moved a little better. His heart started to beat faster. Not much time. If he could just get that sword.

 Sephiroth was right there.

 “ … at the center, will be me. All that boundless energy will be mine. By merging with all the energy of the Planet, I will become a new life form, a new existence. Melding with the Planet… I will cease to exist as I am now…”

 Something broke inside him. He thought it might be a bone, maybe a rib. Or it could have been his mind. Heart… He struggled with his fingers. Dread (shaped like a hurricane, in the vague edges of his imagination, ripping everything apart) filled the empty space and suffocated him.

 “ … Only to be reborn as a God to rule over every soul.”

 “An injury powerful enough to destroy the Planet?” Aerith, again.

 Something else broke. And this time, he knew what it was: it was the paralysis. The tip of his fingers grabbed the hilt of the sword. His fingers tightened around the hilt.

 “Injure… the Planet?” It was Tifa. Everybody else was probably with Aerith too. Cloud hoped that they would drag the conversation longer. Distract him. He managed to scramble to his knees.

 “That’ll never happen!” Barret said angrily. Sephiroth started laughing.

 Cloud finally stood up. Beads of sweat rolled down his face. Hurricane, vicious, overpowering, and he thought he saw himself (amidst the confusion, the deranged paralysis of his mind) standing in front of him, alone, with nothing but a feeble sword in hand, trying to stop the wind single-handedly. He almost cried; didn’t, instead stumbled forward and swung his sword at Sephiroth’s back.

 It was a terribly prolonged moment.

 Sephiroth turned at the last second; just long enough for Cloud to catch his expression. _Surprise_. Except it wasn’t enough; Cloud knew it as soon as the sword started its descent from the apex of the arc. It would be too late.

 He fell down with the sword and hit his knees hard on the ground. He didn’t even feel the pain. His sword hadn’t cut anything. There was only air now where Sephiroth had stood just seconds before. Just …

 “Cloud! Where have you been?”

 “Cloud, you okay, man?”

 “Where did he go? Sephiroth?”

 “He just… vanished.”

 Cloud closed his eyes, then opened them slowly again. It took a while for the cacophony to arrange itself into recognizable sounds, voices. He got up. Head was still slightly airy, but the trembling and the paralysis had gone. He could breathe again.

 “I was in the back. Couldn’t move… like I was paralyzed.” He said. His voice came out relatively normal.

 “He used a Paralysis Materia on you?” Vincent asked. He was already examining the back room. His voice bounced eerily against the walls.

 “I guess… it didn’t feel like it, though.” Cloud said. “I’ve been hit with a Paralysis Materia before. This one… it was different. More powerful.”

 “He could’ve enhanced it.” Cid offered. Cloud nodded. He was too tired to explain. Just remembering it made him sick all over again.

 “Are you sure you’re alright? You look pale.” Tifa said.

 “Yeah, I’m alright.”

 And thankfully she left it at that. Barret looked at him oddly, but didn’t say anything, either. Cloud imagined how he would be looking now, pale as a ghost and drenched in cold sweat, arms slightly shaking, eyes wide –

 “Sephiroth got away,” Aerith said.

 “We have to stop him.” Cloud answered, an automatic response of which he could not remember the meaning for a while. He turned his eyes onto the painting again. “So this must be Meteor, right?”

 They all looked at the mural, at the long burning trail.

 “Something’s going to fall down?” Nanaki said.

 “I dunno what it is… but it looks like it’s going to make a mess.” Yuffie frowned.

 “Yeah, jus’ look at the next painting,” Barret muttered.

 “If Sephiroth’s plan works,” Cloud said. “Then he becomes a God, and the only thing he’s interested in with this Planet is to wipe it out. Revenge, in his mind.”

 “What for?” Cid frowned.

 “Doesn’t matter. He believes we’re all – traitors – and there’s no reasoning with him. You saw how he was.” Cloud took a breath. He saw everybody looking at each other. Yes, they saw; they understood.

 “And even if his plan doesn’t work, we still might get wiped out from the Meteor,” Cloud continued, with a sort of grim severity that was beginning to confuse him. He wondered why his heart was still beating so fast.

 “So what do we do?” Barret asked.

 “Um, kill him before he calls the Meteor thingy?” Yuffie said. “ _Duh_ ,” she added, when the silence dragged on. Cid narrowed his eyes. He was about to say something when Vincent’s dark voice cut in.

 “Come here, look at this.”

 Everybody startled; no one had seen him come back.

 “What is it?” Nanaki asked, bounding in after Vincent into the back room where Cloud had been held paralyzed. As they entered, Cloud realized that the room was actually a lot bigger than he had first thought; in his mind, it had been a dark cage creeping and closing in on him, metal spikes along the edges.

 The orange torchlight Vincent carried threw flickering lights across the room. He led them to a corner, where a small altar stood. He put the torch closer to it; in the wavering light, Cloud could just make out the letters etched on the surface.

 “What’s it say? B…” Barret peered.

 “Black Materia,” Cloud read.

 As if that had been some incantation – it probably was – the temple started shaking.

 “What’s this?” Cid yelled, balancing with his spear as the ground and the ceiling and everything began to rumble. Something cracked above them.

 “Wait, it says something else…” Vincent was dusting off the surface of the altar. Another rumble. Cloud put his hand on the wall, trying to steady himself. “It says… that the Temple itself is the Black Materia.” Vincent’s voice managed to sound even and calm amidst the chaos.

 “What?” Barret yelled.

 “What do they mean?” Cloud asked. The shaking was getting worse.

 “So, this whole building is the Black Materia?” Aerith asked, grabbing onto Barret’s arm so as not to fall.

 “This huge Temple? This is the Black Materia?” Cloud said. Vincent crouched lower as he followed the words on the altar.

 “It says… it’s a device. The Temple gets smaller each time you solve a puzzle. Until it is small enough to fit in the palm of your hand.”

 “So if we solve the puzzles, the Black Materia will get smaller and smaller and we can take it out?” Yuffie shouted over the increasing noise.

 “Yes, but you can only answer the puzzles inside the Temple,” Vincent answered.

 “So, anyone who solves the puzzle will be crushed by the Temple,” Tifa gasped. Considered this, and said, “The Ancients didn’t want dangerous magic to be taken out so easily… I guess.”

 “So what do we do?”

 There was a silence; the Temple continued shaking. Cloud’s head was spinning, wildly, wondering if it was reason or cowardice that was holding his tongue and then wondering if it wasn’t the same thing. “I –”

 “You can use me.”

 Cloud turned and saw Cait Sith, balancing on the floating moogle like a circus acrobat.

 “I’m just a stuffed toy cat,” Cait Sith shrugged, managing to make it look cheeky. “Anyway, you have no choice, Cloud.”

 Cloud didn’t know what to say. Everything he could say sounded false, treacherous, so he said nothing. The Temple shook violently, and everyone fell to the ground. When Cloud scrambled up again, Cait Sith was already hovering near the Black Materia.

 “Well, everyone, take care of yourselves,” he said. “Another Cait Sith will come along, but there’s only one me! Don’t forget that –”

 “Wait, what?”

 But Cait Sith had already pushed a button on the wall that they hadn’t even seen before, and there was a splash of white light. Cloud felt himself being lifted, the world spinning; they were being transported elsewhere. In the dizzying swirl of particles and molecules and the universe floating by him, he thought he glimpsed at something small, a Voice, that had woken him up – from what?

 It only took a few minutes until the Temple of the Ancients shrank down to a single orb, glittering black and sitting at the bottom of the deep hole where the Temple used to be.

 “Should I go get it?” Cloud asked, looking at the others.

 “We’ll wait here,” Tifa said.

 “I’ll come with you,” Aerith said at the same time. Cloud shrugged, and the two of them made their way carefully down to the bottom of the pit.

 He wondered why his heart was still beating so painfully; probably the adrenaline, or the particle-transportation, or –

 Cloud bent down to pick up the Black Materia. It fit into his palm perfectly; no transparent glow that Materias usually generated; just endless black.

 Cloud felt his vision spin again. His heartbeat… But why was he so nervous? He had the Materia right here, in his hand. He squeezed it hard to get a feel of it, to make sure it’s real, and it was solid enough. And yet…

 “So, as long as we have this… Sephiroth won’t be able to use Meteor, right?” Cloud said, just to distract himself from the ominous sensation eating off of his heart. Aerith nodded.

 “Right. And we can’t use it either. You need great spiritual power to use it.”

 “You mean lots of Spiritual energy?”

 “That’s right. One person’s power alone won’t do it. You have to be somewhere special. Where there’s plenty of the Planet’s energy…” Aerith trailed off; her eyes widened. “The Promised Land.”

 “We can’t let Sephiroth…”

 Something interrupted Cloud; his own breath – harsh, ragged, torn. And the… the noise… Black and white and red…

 I wonder?

 “Sephiroth…”

 Wake up!

 Cloud saw Sephiroth standing, so close to them; hovering there, just standing, and he didn’t remember when Sephiroth had come. He wasn’t even sure it was Sephiroth he was seeing. Hallucination? Because his head was hurting so bad…

 Where was Aerith? Where was everyone else? The world was black. It was like the Black Materia was spreading its ash and covering, suffocating the entire world with it. The sky was so dark. And it was only Cloud and Sephiroth that were standing.

 “There, Cloud. Good boy,” Sephiroth said, smiling. His voice was so loud, though it was barely above a whisper. It was a knife cutting through the intense black, leaving it frail and tattered, fall to nothingness. He took a step closer to Hell. Sephiroth was Hell.

 And the black was becoming red. So hot. So… loud. Was it screaming? Yes, it was the day of murder. Five years he’d lost. Flames, red, red flames swallowed the ashes and he took a step closer. The Black Materia in his palm was burning.

 All he could think was that he’d have to give it to Sephiroth. Quick, quickly. Before it burned his skin and melted the bones and his whole body… Just throw it down. Be done with it.

 Rest In Peace…

 In the flames he saw himself.

 Young, maybe twelve or thirteen. Hair tied up in a messy ponytail, wide blue eyes, just blue, no green. No Mako. Young Cloud had his back half-turned to him. He could just make out the thin red slash on Young Cloud’s cheek. He was talking to someone… grinning…

 Oh yes, he remembered. That day it had rained. Dripping wet, that was why his hair was such a mess. There had been a fight. He couldn’t remember why, probably never had known the reason, but that was why dirt was all over his shirt and pants. Torn sleeves. The right arm was bruised too.

 He’d had a broken rib. It’d hurt like hell, but he didn’t care. Five big guys. Older, stronger, but Cloud had won. They picked the fight but it was Cloud who had won. And… and he remembered, it was Tifa he was talking to now. Aching all over but grinning, not to show the pain. He’d been proud of himself. Tifa, too. She’d said some mean things about the five boys and they both laughed…

 Young Cloud turned his head. He looked at Cloud, straight.

 There was horror in his big blue eyes, also other things that Cloud didn’t have a name for. He was still walking to Hell; slowly, but Sephiroth was patient. He was waiting there with a smile on his face. Cloud glanced from Young Cloud to Sephiroth. Only the three of them in the burning flames of his memory. And it looked like Sephiroth, he couldn’t see the Young Cloud.

 Young Cloud opens his mouth and speaks, and Cloud knows it’s been him all along.

 “It’s been you.”

 “Come, Cloud. Give me the Black Materia.”

 Cloud felt his palm burn; the skin was boiling; the pain was unbearable. He’d have to give this cursed orb to Hell, quickly, before his hand fell off.

 “Help me.” Cloud gasps, he doesn’t know where he is anymore. In the red flames with Sephiroth? In the black abyss with Young Cloud? In the Temple of the Ancients with Aerith? “I can’t give it to Sephiroth… Not after… everything…”

 His mind flashes back to all the faces, faces he knows. His friends, are they?

 Cloud was so close to Hell. Sephiroth would only have to stretch out his arm to snatch the Materia away from his hand, release him from his burden, but he didn’t. Still he waited with a little smile on his face. He waited for Cloud to give it to him. It’d only take but a few steps.

And the pain. It would end.

 I wish I could help you, Young Cloud says. He looks pained. He is feeling the same pain. Cloud’s pain. It is unbelievable. Every cell in his body is burning. He wonders why he doesn’t die.

 “I can’t…” Cloud starts, but can’t finish. Young Cloud is fading. His blue eyes search Cloud’s.

 Don’t be afraid. This is not the end. Don’t give up.

 “I…”

 The Black orb was handed to Hell.

 “Well done.” Sephiroth smiled.

 Immediately, Cloud felt the flames disappear. The burning hot thing in his palm was gone. The redness faded first, then the black ash, then there was the sky.

 White sky. Early morning. The world was so quiet. Why was the world so quiet?

And he was lying down on the ground, staring at the white sky, and there was no Black Materia in his hand. No. Aerith’s hand found his.

 “Cloud, are you all right?”

 Cloud turned his head and looked at her. She was sitting, leaning down on him.

 “I gave the Black Materia to Sephiroth,” he said, barely recognizing the voice for how hoarse it was. He wondered if he had been shouting all this time, _give it to him – let it be over – oh please let it be –_

Aerith didn’t say anything. Cloud could barely feel his heart now. It was like he was paralyzed again.

 “What did I do?” Cloud wondered, turning his eyes toward the sky again. “Why?”

 “Cloud, it’s not your fault,” she whispered.

 But how could she say that?

 He was like a puppet. A puppet…

 His will was an illusion; there was no will. There was a script. He was,

 “I’m sorry.” Cloud closed his eyes, and felt something hot roll down his cheeks.

  _My memory… since when? If everything’s a dream, don’t wake me._

 “Cloud, can you hear me?”

 I can hear you, Cloud wanted to say, but his voice wouldn’t come out; I’m sorry, he wanted to say, but he’d said it already.

 “Don’t worry about it, Cloud. It’s not your fault.”

 How can it not be my fault?

 “Let me handle Sephiroth. And Cloud, you take care of yourself, okay?”

 The scene changed; no, they were there all along. It was only that Cloud noticed it now, like he has finally opened his eyes. He saw Aerith too. They were standing in a forest, thick canopy coloring the sunray deep green.

 “What is this place?” Cloud asked.

 “This forest leads to the City of the Ancients. It’s called the Sleeping Forest. It’s only a matter of time before Sephiroth summons Meteor. I’m going to protect –”

 “Protect…?”

 “Only a survivor of the Cetra, like me, can do it,” she smiled again. “Then I’ll be going now. I’ll come back when it’s all over.”

 “Aerith?”

 She seemed to be running, and Cloud tried to follow, but couldn’t even move his feet. Aerith disappeared into the white light.

 Wait, don’t leave me, he tried to say, but his voice was gone again.

 Goodbye, Cloud.

 


	24. To Go On

23\. To Go On

 

_“You said that I’d be fine_

_But first I wore you with hurts_

_It takes a little hell_

_To know what heaven is worth”_

From _A Little Hell_ by _Radical Face_

-

 “You looked like you was havin’ a nightmare, man.”

 Cloud blinked a few times to adjust to the sudden light. He hadn’t realized he was in the dark. Soon the swirling ceiling came to a standstill. The stains, the faded floral patterns on the edges of the wall, the rag of a curtain. They were all familiar. An inn – there were so many of them – in Gongaga? Cloud hung onto this like it was the most important thing to find out, right now. How long ago was it that they stayed here? Only a few days…

 “Well, say somethin’,” a voice said, the same one as before. Cloud turned his head, feeling his neck move stiffly, and found Barret leaning against the wall and peering into his face like he was observing some mildly disturbing but fascinating phenomenon.

 “I don’t know what to say,” he finally said.

 “Well – how do you feel?”

 “I don’t know,” Cloud said, realizing that it was the truth. He had no feelings; he was all out of feelings; it wasn’t exactly a novel symptom (as he had a tendency to run, always), but it disturbed him a little, nonetheless. There, that was a feeling. “Disturbed,” he said.

 “I’d say,” Barret seemed to want to chuckle, but gave up the effort.

 “You know, Cloud,” Tifa said, from the other side of the bed. Cloud turned his head with some difficulty, feeling like a worthless invalid. “Aerith is gone.”

 “Gone?” This seemed to spark something in his chest. He tried to hold onto it.

 “Yeah, everyone’s out lookin’ for her,” Barret said.

 Cloud sat up, slowly. He wasn’t under a blanket, or anything like it, but it felt like the whole of time and history and what was left of his sanity (he remembered Hell) was pressing down on him. Still he sat up, fighting the urge to flop back down again. It was very important that he sat up. It was very important – he couldn’t remember – Aerith – gone – something…

 “City of the Ancients,” he said, suddenly remembering. “Aerith is headed there.”

 “How do you know that?” Barret asked.

 “In my…” Cloud paused, realizing how it would sound. “In my dream. Aerith told me.”

 “Why did she go alone? Damn those hero-type people…”

 Cloud watched Barret ranting about stupid heroism, and felt a vague wonder and disgust at how easily they seemed to believe him. This was wrong. Everything was so wrong.

 “We should go, now. It’s dangerous for her alone,” Tifa said, holding out a hand to him. Cloud stared at it, uncomprehending. “Come on, Cloud. We don’t have time. What if Sephiroth finds her first?”

 “Sephiroth… already knows,” Cloud heard himself say. He waited for them to ask how he knew _that_ (the answer to which was yet another disturbing telepathic feeling in his gut), but they didn’t. He wished he could tell them that he _knew_ , because he was connected to Sephiroth in some way. _You are a puppet._ But they didn’t.

 “Yeah, c’mon, move yer ass!” Barret grabbed Cloud right arm, but let go of it quickly. Cloud watched his own limp arm distantly, drawing an arc in the air and falling onto the bed sheet. “Man, you’re burnin’ up! You sick or somethin’?”

 Cloud started to shake his head, but paused. “I… maybe. I don’t know. I can’t go.”

 His head was throbbing again.

 “You rest. We’ll go – we’ll find Sephiroth,” Tifa said. “You catch up to us later.”

 “No,” Cloud shook his head. His breath was hot, burning, dry.

 “Whaddya mean…”

 “I can’t go. I might… I will lose it again. If Sephiroth comes near me,” Cloud said, trying to blink away the heat. He didn’t understand it. The fire ended five years ago. Some years ago he had – there was – “I don’t have a choice. I didn’t have a choice. I had to – it was so hot.” He said, almost to himself.

 “Goddammit, Cloud,” Barret grumbled. Cloud watched him grab a chair, push it next to the bed and collapse down onto it, the floorboard screaming. It was too loud; cut into his head. Barret gritted his teeth. “Right. It’s ‘cause of you that Sephiroth got the Black Materia in the first place. It’s your damn fault!”

 Cloud nodded, his head was heavy, and somewhere in his peripheral vision Tifa looked like she might begin to cry; but she didn’t. She wouldn’t.

 “Yeah, it’s your damn fault,” Barret said it again, forcefully. “Is that what you wanna her? ‘Cause I can stand here an’ say ‘em all day.”

 “Barret, that’s enough,” Tifa said, but Barret shook his head. His face was red; his voice boomed in Cloud’s ears and seemed to shake them to pieces. He wasn’t even sure if he was really here, wasn’t sure if _Barret_ was (because his young self died long ago, couldn’t have been there, he talked to him, said goodbye, but it was someone else –). Still, Barret continued yelling.

 “I know you got problems – hell, we all do!” He leaned in closer to Cloud, and Cloud could almost feel the air vibrating with the force of his voice. “But you gotta understand that there ain’t no gettin’ off a train we’re on, till we get to the end of the line!”

 That was poetic for Barret, Cloud thought absently.

 “Cloud, we came this far. He’s right. You can’t give up now.” Tifa said, almost mechanically. 

 “But Tifa,” his voice came sounding weak, broken, which wasn’t surprising, but he hated it nonetheless. “He can control me. How can he control me? Why me and no one else? What… what did he do to me?” He felt, with a rising panic, that he was going to lose it. He was going to say something irrevocable. But he couldn’t stop it now, like that metaphorical train Barret was talking about. His voice came tumbling out. “I feel like I’ve forgotten something very important, Tifa. Something… because I wanted to forget. Someone did something to me. He…”

 “But you just don’t know, do ya?” Barret interrupted, still in his barking voice, pushing back his chair angrily. “An’ whatcha gonna do, anyway? Just lie here for all eternity?”

 “You’ll come with us, I know you will.” Tifa said. She looked like she was shivering from the cold, and grabbed his burning hand as if for warmth.

 “C’mon, Tifa, let’s wait outside,” Barret said.

 “But…”

 “He’ll come out.” He said, spat, the words, with a strange glint in his eyes. Cloud didn’t understand where the conviction came from. Tifa dropped his hand, looked back at him again and walked through the door after Barret. She closed the door but it didn’t stay closed, the old door, and creaked open again a little bit. Cloud listened to the fading footsteps and saw the empty hallway.

 He couldn’t remember how long he’d stayed that way. The heat was disappearing, slowly at first and then abruptly it was gone. If he had ever had a fever, it had been trampled on by his Mako-strengthened immune system.

 “What will you do?” A low voice asked from behind him. Cloud didn’t know how he’d come into the room, but it didn’t matter. He answered without looking back.

 “Do I have a choice?”

 “Technically,” Vincent said. “One assumes one has a choice in every given situation.”

 “So, no.”

 Vincent didn’t say anything. Cloud dragged his legs across the bed sheet, listening for additional voices in his head. He knew now that the boy had been speaking to him all this time, trying to help him, remind him, but he was gone. He’d said goodbye. Now Cloud was alone.

 He stepped down on the floor, stood up with legs that were shaking a little but not for long.

-

 “Was it wise to leave him alone?” Yuffie asked, as soon as Tifa told her what happened. About him. His refusal. His fear.

 “What could we have done?” Barret growled. “Drag him by the collar? Nah, he’s either gon’ come out, or he ain’t.”

 “What if he doesn’t?” Tifa asked, without really meaning to. There was a beat of silence. Tifa waited for Barret to say, _but he will_ , but he didn’t say anything. Tifa remembered how Cloud had looked, barely sitting up, pale and broken and – and scared, and she could understand, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was carrying a dead rock in her chest.

 “What if…” Yuffie started, but interrupted herself, shaking her head. Tifa knew what she had meant to say; they were all thinking it; they had all seen him, with a blank look on his face, walking calmly towards Sephiroth and dropping the Black Materia on his outstretched hands. This had happened all too fast for any of them to stop him, even Vincent. And then – before they could really comprehend what had happened – Sephiroth was gone, Cloud slumped down on the ground as if he had been burning at the stakes for eternity, and Aerith dropped to her knees beside him. Held his hand. They spoke – Tifa was too far away to hear. She remembered all of this, vividly.

 “Just give the lad some more time,” Cid said, with a wise air and a puff on his cigarette. Yuffie glared as the cigarette smoke got into her eyes.

 “How much time?” Barret said, narrowing his eyes.

 And then;

 “Not much.”

 Tifa turned, already knowing his voice, already knowing his expression; quiet determination, a hint of desperation, the face he’d worn when he told her, _I’m going to Midgar._ Gonna become a SOLDIER. Tifa watched, as Cloud moved (his legs shaking a little) across the lobby of the inn and to the door. Everybody watched. He pushed open the door and sunlight crept through, making a bursting halo around his head.

 “You are coming with us?” Nanaki asked.

 “Yes,” Cloud answered, without turning his head. Tifa had to squint against the sunlight. His voice continued; it sounded disconnected, his face being obscured by the backlight of the sun. “But I think I should tell you, I’m afraid to find out the truth.”

 “The truth? About what?” Yuffie asked.

 “I don’t know exactly. But I know – I know there’s something.”

 “That’s not vague at all, mate,” Cid said, raising his eyebrows. He was laughing silently, though; Tifa could see the relief in his eyes and knew that it reflected everyone else’s. They had wanted him to come. Despite the danger, they had wanted him with them. Or maybe they just didn’t know what to do, without him.

 “I know there’s something I’m not remembering,” Cloud said. “But I’ll go.”

 “Hey, even if you _do_ go nuts again,” Barret said, rather cheerfully. “If it happens, it happens. I’ll go upside down on yer spiky blond head and bring you back to normal.”

 “Oh, I’ll hit you so hard that you’ll – you’ll be _so_ normal –”

 “Yuffie, that doesn’t even make sense.”

 “Whatever, Tifa.”

 Then Tifa saw, Cloud took a deep breath, and stepped outside, into the light.


	25. Sacrifice

24\. Sacrifice

 

_“I hope the weather is calm as you sail up your heavenly stream_

_Suspended clear in the sky are the words that we sing in our dreams.”_

From _Let There Be Love_ by _Oasis_

-

 He should have been less surprised to see Cait Sith again, but he was. Cait Sith was waiting for them at the edge of the town, fidgeting nervously and jumping up the moment he saw them.

 “Well?” The cat said, all squeaky voice and excited, nervous fleeting laughter. “I told you I’d come again, didn’t I?”

 Cid grunted something unintelligible. Cloud stared at Cait Sith for a while, trying to spot some kind of a difference, but couldn’t find any. This disturbed him, for some reason.

 “Let’s just go find that girl,” Barret said, with more energy than the thin gray day warranted.

 “I did some scouting for you,” Cait Sith chipped in. “Up ahead a little bit, there’s this abandoned house – by the time we get there it’ll be late, so…”

 “So, no camping. Thank God for that.” Yuffie said. “Well, c’mon, let’s go!” She bounded ahead of them, snatching Cait Sith’s body on the way. The cat left a screeching mark on the air. The rest of them looked at Cloud (some trying to steal a glance, some being obvious about it) before they all walked on too. They were wondering if he would really follow, Cloud realized. He was wondering the same thing.

 But then, as if he’d heard someone call his name, he started walking; a simple reaction; nothing to it, nothing in front of him but the backs of their heads in their varying colors, the tree-shadows starting to obscure them. Cloud followed.

-

 The house that Cait Sith had found for them was very old, falling down, standing half-fallen already in the middle of the forest like it had seen the forest grow. Yuffie asked what the hell it was, but no one had the answer. All in all, it was quite absurd; a strange house, a strange forest, and Cloud felt like he was still dreaming. True, it had always been hard to tell.

 “It’s a place to stay overnight,” Vincent said, when Yuffie asked for the third time. She rolled his eyes. He paid her no more attention, glancing out instead to the darkening sky. The City of the Ancients.

 The City was surrounded by a forest, but it wasn’t just any forest. The trees did not have leaves; they were raw and bare, the thick branches as smooth as stones. Sure, it was winter – but Cloud suspected that no leaves ever grew on these trees, even in summer. They stood erect; shielded and watched the place, like silent knights, emitting a strange white glow in the dark. The light was faint but somehow forbidding.

 Barret complained a little about the dingy mattress, but everybody was too tired not to fall asleep anyway; they had been walking all day. There were not enough mattresses for everyone. Cloud sat himself down leaning on a wall near the door, ignoring someone’s half-hearted protests. The night fell into silence soon enough. The forest and the white glowing trees fell silent too. Cloud pretended to be asleep, but could not sleep. He was afraid of sleep. No, he was afraid of dreams.

 The silence was too absolute.

 No insects, no night animals sneaking around; no wind, no rustling of leaves, just a lot of emptiness, the night brim-full of it. Cloud kept remembering his vision (his dream, his hallucination) of Aerith disappearing into the white light. He was too anxious to sleep.

 He finally opened his eyes to the silence. Held his breath, checked that everybody else was asleep. Soft snoring, rustle of clothes, squeak of mattresses, but not enough to drown the silence. Cloud stood up, as quietly as he could, and walked out of the house.

 He had a strange fever; a desperation of sorts, gripping him tightly. He briefly wondered if this was Sephiroth again, but something felt different. He started walking without really knowing why. And then – clashes in his head, in his chest, the wind started blowing quite suddenly. No leaves, but the branches shook and howled.

 Then he knew. He didn’t know how long he stood there (not that long), but when he looked back everyone else was outside too. Maybe they hadn’t been sleeping either, Cloud thought absently.

 “Cloud?” Tifa said, a little fearfully. Cloud shook his head. He didn’t know what he was denying.

 “I feel it.”

 “You feel what?”

 “Aerith is here,” Cloud said, the feeling growing more certain by the second. He did not know what to say if anyone asked him _how_. “And Sephiroth too. I feel them both.”

 Nobody asked.

 The feeling was as clear as that moment he had the Black Materia in his hand; a taste of hell, residue of black smoke, only now there was something else, too. There was a white light – it was the only way he could describe it – fighting it back for him. It was Aerith, he knew, fighting for him.

 “So – are they near?” Cid asked, chewing down on an unlit cigarette. None of them had any sleep in their limbs. Cloud glanced at the swaying white branches behind him, feeling the distance with that odd sense he seemed to have developed.

 “Very near. I can almost – touch it.”

 “What I don’t understand is –” Cid started to say, but Vincent cut him off.

 “Then we must hurry,” he said, in his authoritative voice.

 “Yeah,” Cloud said, taking a wobbly step towards the clash; the white, the black, the painful tear in his chest. All this felt like a dream – maybe it was a dream? Maybe he had died five years ago when he should have. Something wouldn’t let him go, though. Some vague recollection – some premonition – and Cloud couldn’t even breathe, but still he took another step forward.

-

  _Goodbye, and…_

And, and. Aerith couldn’t finish that sentence. The light was so white and blinding that she had to close her eyes.

 She felt it gently touching her cheeks, showering down on her hair like a million broken pieces of a pearl. It was quite beautiful, but then she had always known it would be. Her senses had grown sharp, crystal, cutting, and everything – every beat of a pulse of everything around her, the wind, the trees, the air, the silent thought – touched her so strongly that she almost stumbled.

 In this moment that she knew she would die, she felt life coursing through her veins and into the air. She felt the Planet. It was a singular feeling, almost like euphoria, and she thought she could just – end it there, on a happy note, when she saw his face through the light.

 His pale face almost ghostly in the reflected white glow of the forest, pale blue eyes wide and unblinking, looking up at her with something close to horror. She knew he felt it too, though he probably did not understand it for what it was. She imagined what she would look to him right now; high up on the altar, kneeling and praying, for the miracle that was the white light. The light enveloped the altar. A narrow staircase, only wide enough for a single person, led to the last piece of space she would –

 But then he did not know that. Aerith wished she could tell him, but she could not. She had to watch him climb up the stairs towards her. His footsteps rang clearly in her ears and she felt his being – his spirit – float in a deep blue glow. The others had remained down, but she could feel their colors too. Yellow, ash brown, magenta, lime green – all so beautiful.

 She must not lose, though. She closed her eyes and did not open them again, though she longed to see his face once more. That black force; madness; blood-red and twisted black in a swirl of chaos. Sephiroth. It was trying to get to Cloud, and she had to stop him. He was so strong, though – Sephiroth pushed with relentless viciousness. Black crashed into blue, and Aerith had to watch the waters spinning, rippling, the blue becoming darker and darker until it was almost black.

-

 Cloud saw Aerith and he pulled out his sword.

 Something was telling – whispering – yelling at him; he was familiar with this feeling, this feeling that was pure, desperate _need_. He had felt it before and had lost to it. The fire burned, moved his own hands away from his dull panic. Perhaps it was himself that was yelling? But before he could decide, the word was lifting without resistance. His muscles were fluid like water. Aerith had her eyes closed, praying, immobile. _Run away_ , Cloud screamed, but his voice only came out as a pathetic half-sound, not loud enough to be heard. He tried to stop his arms from swinging forward (tried to point it backwards, so the sharp ends would face his chest), but it was like he’d forgotten how to move, to breathe, even, and all he could do was watch with wide eyes and wait for the unavoidable. He knew what would happen; he had lost before, he would lose again.

 A loud noise that broke everything to pieces: the ground, the trees, the air. And the fire was burning, no, that wasn’t a strong enough word, it was devouring his flesh and bones and muscles and eyes. _Kill her_ , it said, hissed into his ears. The force; Hell; Sephiroth. His arms, both hands grabbing the sword tightly, was falling down in a perfect arc. He wondered what the others were doing, if Vincent couldn’t just – shoot him now – Yuffie – throw the shuriken – He could see the trajectory of his sword, clear as a picture. It would end too late for Aerith. It would cut through her.

 They were too late. The bullet, if it was coming, would not get here in time. He thought he was screaming, but no sound came out; in fact, it was deadly silent. Not the crisp sound of fire burning, though it was burning, the whispers had ceased, and he thought he had finally gone deaf.

 Then Aerith opened her eyes.

  _Cloud_ , her mouth formed the word, a smile that was more sadness than joy, and Cloud felt the sounds rushing back at him at once. The others yelling at him from below, the howling wind, his own ragged breaths, her soft gasp.

 But no whispers. No flesh-burning fire. Cloud threw his entire body aside, a last attempt, a single moment of clarity that he didn’t let go. He didn’t care if he threw himself off the altar and fell into the water. He didn’t care if he broke his neck in the fall, he just needed to get away from Aerith. His shoulder connected with the floor; he let go of the sword, an electrifying pain, his whole body – muscles, nerves, blood – on fire. But that wasn’t important now. Aerith was staring at him with that half-smile, Aerith who was alive, and that was the only thing that mattered.

 The friction of his shoulder against the altar scraped his skin, burned it off, but he had stopped just short of being flung off over the railing. He’d lived – and she’d lived – his sword was falling, bleeding the air. He gathered himself together and found the courage to look at her, to raise his head.

 And found her bleeding.

 There was still a smile on her lips, quivering slightly, and he realized that he’d tuned out the sounds again. There was a lot of yelling, a lot of wind, no sound from Aerith. A strange metal tip was protruding from her chest, stopping right in front of her still-clasped hands. Aerith looked up, confused, met his eyes. A thin line of red trickled down from her mouth.

 “No,” he said, to no one in particular. He looked down at his hands, and was confused when he found them empty. His sword… but his sword was thrown over…

 It wasn’t his sword; it was much thinner, much longer, slicing the veins and muscles in just the right place, subtle and fatal. He knew whose blade that was.

 “Don’t worry. Soon the girl will become a part of the Planet’s energy,” a voice said, over and inside his head. Cloud didn’t need to look up to see who it was. He wondered how the world had gotten so quiet again, his deep, mellifluous voice the only thing that existed. He realized that his hands were all soaked in sticky red. He was trying to stop the bleeding but it was futile, because it wasn’t, in fact, bleeding anymore. She was already dead.

 “All that is left is to go North,” said the voice. The thing. Hell. “The Promised Land waits for me, over the snowy fields.”

 Cloud felt like he was going to cry and laugh and get sick at the same time; it was very confusing, how Sephiroth’s voice was perfectly conversational, how he was holding her so very tight (probably bruising her arms) and how everywhere it was just red. Metallic.

 “Shut up,” he managed, through painful gasps. He didn’t know when he had stood up, but he was staring at Sephiroth’s face now; a calm mask, with a hint of ironical amusement.

  _If you could tell the exact moment,_ he suddenly thought, an alien voice ringing inside his head. _The_ exact _moment that you went mad. What would it be?_

 Someone had asked this, a long time ago; Cloud wasn’t sure who. Didn’t matter, though, because the answer was _now_. And probably every time. Every time –

 “What did you say?” Sephiroth asked, amused. “My, are you _sad_ , Cloud? You’re crying.”

 Acid. Rain. Screams of agony inside his head, death sitting in the corner and refusing to meet his eyes.

 Sephiroth continued. “Stop _acting_ , Cloud. You can’t really be sad. You’re just a puppet.”

 He laughed. Gathered up his long cloak, picked up his sword (drenched in _her_ blood), and was gone. Cloud blinked, thought he should have answered, but didn’t know _how_.

 Something hit him hard. Some realization. Barret’s hand. Screaming, crying, cursing, something made him fall to his knees and when he looked up, he was staring at Aerith’s open eyes, the shimmering green reflecting all the dead. Yuffie suddenly appeared – or so it seemed – beside him, crawled on her knees towards Aerith and closed her eyes for her. Got blood on her pale arms. She was crying.

-

 Cloud lifted her, some time later, and carried her to the lake. They had done their best to clean the blood off of her. He stood in the shallow bank, and let her go. The water glimmered in pure white, reflecting the glowing trees surrounding it. It was not normal water; they all watched mutely as the water seemed to claim her body for itself, the swirling brown hair.

-

 The air was considerably heavier when they arrived again at the derelict house where they’d  slept earlier. The sun was rising, but the air was still blue. Cloud thought it might cut, the air, how cold and shrill it was.

 They were all very quiet; robbed of words. Cloud hesitated a little before he spoke, but he had to say something. He drew up a breath, white fog forming in the air in front of his mouth.

 “Hey, I have something to say.”

 Their heads all turned; tired, eyes swollen, disbelieving and angry. Cloud hesitated again. Their faces all looked alien, shrouded in the blue dawn.

 “You know what happened up there,” he said, and shook his head at Tifa who was about to interrupt. “I thought I came here to settle things with Sephiroth, under my… Under some illusion of free will.”

 “But you didn’t kill her, lad,” Cid said, puffing out smoke that covered his face. “ _He_ did.”

 “Yes, Cloud, you fought it off. We all saw it,” quipped Cait Sith, his attempt at cheerfulness falling dead and flat and almost eerie.

 “But I almost didn’t,” Cloud said, taking another gulp of breath. “There’s something in me – a part of me – that I don’t understand, that somehow Sephiroth seems to be controlling. Something inside me,” he considered, and amended, “Someone inside me that isn’t really me.”

 They were all silent, watching intently. Now for the difficult part.

 “So maybe it’s wise I quit this journey, but… but I’m going. And I’m asking you to…”

 “We’ll come with you,” Yuffie said, nodding firmly. She was crouched beside Nanaki, who purred in agreement.

 “Is that what you were going to ask?” Tifa said, smiling a little. There were dark circles under her eyes, but the dim blue light of the dawn made them look like ceremonial paint, almost, something sacred.

 “’Cause ye didn’t really need to,” Barret said, grumbling. “Thought we settled this already at Gongaga?”

 “So what’s the plan, fearless leader?” Yuffie said, smiling wide.

 Cloud paused, looked at their faces, couldn’t find what he was looking for. Finally he nodded, feeling pathetic and overwhelmed and also desperately relieved.

 “Aerith was trying to do something with the white light,” he said slowly, his breath making puffs of white in the air. “But we don’t know what it is. Guess we’ll never know.”

 “So what? What do we do?” Cid asked.

 “I think there’s only one thing we can do,” Cloud said, what he’d been thinking for hours. “We go after Sephiroth. We stop him before he uses the Black Materia.”

 “You mean kill him?” Barret said, growling dangerously.

 “Which way?” Vincent asked.

 “North,” Cloud said, remembering what Sephiroth had said. “Over a snowy field.”

 The sun was beginning to rise; the dawn wasn’t so blue anymore, but a paler shade of gray. Cloud led the way and they all followed him, the absence heavy and silent, but they walked on.

 


	26. The First Crack

  1. The First Crack



 

_“I tore the dreams from my head and tossed them in the flames_

_And the smoke smelled like my past and it stung my eyes,_

_But I was too stubborn to blink and I slept inside the piano_

_Till the rain was gone, and I woke up when I saw the sun_

_And wiped the sleep from my eyes_

_Yeah, I knew my time had come.”_

From _Sleepwalking_ by _Radical Face_

\- L.

 It was already dark when someone stepped on the wrong ice, which cracked, and everybody went tumbling down. There was a suffocating moment in which Cloud thought he might actually die then, but fortunately the fall ended quickly. He felt a muted shadow of a pain as his back collided with the icy floor. He could barely feel anything through the thick padded snowsuit that Barret had procured for them earlier. Cloud fumbled into a sitting position. The wind was strong in the narrow ravine they had fallen into. It almost knocked him back down again. He crouched lower, then pushed the mask up on his head. The wind cut into his face like acid. He opened his mouth to speak and felt like his teeth were already blocks of ice, falling off one by one.

 “Everyone all right?” He called, loud. There were grunts here and there. Cloud pushed himself to sit up higher, fighting the wind, and counted the dark lumps that were moving. The wind sliced against his nose and eyes. He gritted his teeth as he pulled the mask back down on his face.

 “Got snow in my ear.” He heard Nanaki mutter.

 “So, where did we land?” Yuffie yelled behind her mask. Their voices came out all muffled by leather and wind. It was hard to hear.

 “I don’t know. A ravine of some kind.” Cloud called back. He scrambled up to his feet, grabbing the rocky wall for support. Yuffie and Tifa were almost flat against the walls.

 “There’s a way through here.” It was Vincent, his usually low and quiet voice raised over the blizzard. Cloud followed his finger and saw a narrow path leading up to an entrance of a cave. The thick blackness inside looked dangerous, even sinister. He hesitated a little but knew that he had no choice.

 “Alright. We’ll freeze if we stay here any longer. Let’s get inside.”

 Everyone took cautious steps along the walls. Finally, the last of them, Nanaki with Cait Sith holding on tightly onto his head, made it into the cave. The air still felt more solid than was possible, frozen and cutting like knives, but at least the caves blocked them from the wind.

 “Thought I was dyin’ back there.” Cid sighed as soon as the mask was off.

 “Yeah, thought I was a goner too. Makin’ a last wish was what I was doin’.” Barret shuddered as he peered out of the cave. It had gotten dark so fast, and even the dark here was laced with icy blue all over.

 “What was your last wish?” Yuffie asked. Barret shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. As Yuffie opened her mouth to press on, Cloud interrupted.

 “Listen, guys. It’s not too late to back out.” And he meant it. He would go it alone if he had to. It might have been his punishment. His crimes were always catching him by the legs, too deep, and sometimes he didn’t know what they were for. What was his crime? But long enough in jail, you forgot to wonder, too.

 “The hell you talkin’ about? Wasn’t no one thinkin’ of leavin’.” Barret grumbled. There was a general murmur of agreement. Cloud looked around at all of them. Some had reasons to be here, some didn’t really, but they were all staying with him. Just like the punishment, he thought, he did not really know the reason for it.

 “Thank you.” Cloud finally said. The only thing.

-

 When the dawn broke, the wind ceased for a brief moment and the white snow was graced with the golden sun raining down on it. The particles sparkled. They walked out of through the back of the cave, an opening that Vincent had found, and stared out at the wide horizon. There was a ragged block of a mountain, or a cliff, at the far end and that was where they would go. Cloud knew without knowing how.

 There was a light drumming, rhythmical sound, and Cloud realized that it was his heart beating. His senses were sharper than usual. The fresh morning air cut through his exposed face, and every breath he took and held and sighed out, came out a silent fog. He took a deep haul of a breath and the air filled his lungs with startling clarity. He listened to his heart beat faster and faster. One step, then two. The wind wasn’t so bad yet, but the blizzard might attack any moment. Cloud looked back at the others to check if they were prepared.

 “That’s it right there?” Nanaki asked, gesturing at the cliff on the horizon. Cloud nodded.

 “Yes, that’s it.” And he was unable to say anything more. How he appreciated them all.

How his journey might end right there one way or another, and how afraid he thought he should be. He couldn’t say any of those for he lacked the words to express the quiver of his eyelashes and the way each breath drew the same letters in the air, but they looked like they all understood. Cid nodded to Cloud, Yuffie shrugged and Tifa gave him a thin smile that looked out of place in such a cold place. Cloud and turned his head to face the End. The end of what, he didn’t know.

 “You know, standing here like this… Kinda makes you feel like the Planet’s not on our side, don’t it?” Barret said suddenly. No one asked what he meant. They all looked out to the endless field of white and understood. “Of course we can’t even compete. I mean… The Planet don’t even notice us humans…” Barret continued on anyway, staring blankly out at the open air. The snow and the white were so vast and so empty, frighteningly meaningless and just sitting there – staring, watching, maybe waiting. Cloud felt small.

 “Yeah, but we’ve gotta try.” He said more to himself than anyone else.

“Damn! If I could just get back in the air, this’d be nothing!” Cid complained, as his spear stabbed the snow and it squashed softly. And they started walking.

-

 They’d been preparing for the icy wind that had hit them earlier, but found the bitterness of the cold strangely melting away as they kept climbing the rocky path up to the top of the cliff. They couldn’t see where it eventually led to. A bit further ahead the path steepened abruptly, becoming almost vertical, and the scantly dispersed trees and a big plate of protruding rock were blocking the view.

 “Is it just me… or is it getting warmer?” Yuffie tore her mask away. She tensed for a second as she waited for the wind to bite her face, but nothing happened. She shrugged. There was a little commotion as the others started taking off their masks too.

 Cloud took his off, and waited to feel something. He didn’t feel anything. No wind, no cold. It seemed almost ridiculous that they were wearing these thick snow suits. Cloud unzipped the front of his jacket and still felt nothing.

 The snow and ice were still there, covering the ground and the rocks, blanketed thickly over the bare branches and the ancient green of the needle leaf trees.

 Something wet touched his cheek. Startled, Cloud spun around and found Yuffie staring up at him, smearing something on his cheek. Cloud grabbed her hand and saw glistening white on it. Snow.

 “What’re you doing?” He frowned, wiping off the wetness from his face. Yuffie shrugged.

 “It’s snow, it’s supposed to be cold but it ain’t. Just testing my theory.”

 “How about testing it on yourself?”

 “Nah, what’s the fun in that? Besides, if I was wrong, my face would’ve ripped off.” She grinned wickedly.

 Cloud just shook his head. Tifa started laughing.

 “But it’s strange, that the air is suddenly so warm,” Nanaki said, dragging his paw across the snow.

 “Maybe… we just getting’ used to it?” Barret suggested hopefully. “I’d hate to think somethin’ sinister’s involved. Y’know, like magic or somethin’. Creeps me out.”

 “Barret, we’re goddamn chasin’ a dead man, who’s after a land of goddamn eternal happiness,” Cid said. Barret frowned.

 “Yeah, I mean, with Sephiroth,” Tifa said. “You just don’t know.”

 “So Sephiroth can make the weather warm, too?” Yuffie asked, impressed.

 “I don’t think there _is_ warmth.” It was Vincent, speaking so suddenly that it made everybody jump.

 “Well… okay?” Yuffie frowned. She took off her snow jacket. She was wearing her Wutai clothes underneath. Her bare arms shone white under the pale sun. She waited for a minute for the cold, which never came.

 “So how do you call this, huh?” She said to Vincent, with her chin sticking out. Vincent’s expression never changed.

 “It’s not the presence of warmth, it’s the absence of cold. If there had been warmth, the snow would melt.”

 While everybody was thinking about this, Vincent took off his suit as well and the red, battered cloak revealed itself again, looking more blood-like against the white veil of lukewarm snow.

 “Agh, what the hell. It’s making me dizzy.” Cid complained and ripped out of his suit. As Cloud dropped the jacket on the ground below, a realization hit him. He looked up at Vincent.

 “Wait, do you think… that something is _keeping_ away the cold? Like it’s… scaring it away?”

 Before Vincent could speak, Cait Sith whispered, sounding slightly fascinated and sick at the same time. “What could possibly scare away… the _coldness?_ ”

 “Yes, Cloud. That’s what I think.” Vincent answered. Cid sighed, exasperated.

 “Great. An’ we’re just walkin’ straight into it.”

-

 They walked some more in silence. Cloud found himself thinking the same sentence over and over again.

 That was when he saw it first. He was walking at the head of the group so it made sense that he’d spot it first, but there was something else. Something else grabbed his attention so sharply that it almost knocked him out of breath. It was a squirming form, huddle of black coat that lay in the middle of the road when they turned the corner around a large rock. Cloud stopped abruptly. Others did too, at seeing the form. He heard Tifa gasp.

 The form raised its head at hearing them. It was a person… or at least something similar to a person. It was not like he was missing an eye, or that his face, left and right, were unbalanced. He even looked a little familiar to Cloud, the dark red hair and brown eyes, the freckles across his face. On his forehead was a black tattoo. Its shapes were rather abstract, grotesquely minimal, and seemed to spell a VII. Number seven.

 It was just his face, the expression on it. Completely devoured by rage and hatred, consumed and burning, exploding inhumanity. It chilled him, the non-existent cold seeping through his blood.

 The man opened his mouth to speak and his eyes widened at seeing Cloud. No coherent words came out. He sputtered shreds of a scream, contorted with ugly rage. It cut off abruptly. He was dead on the ground but his eyes were still staring at Cloud. Wide open, brown but with the red rims where his veins had ruptured.

-

 They encountered a few more cloaked figures like that on the way. Each time, they passed it in a hurry. Each time, those disfigured shapes groaned and stared, and then died. Cloud avoided looking too closely at those faces.

 Cloud could see the trees suddenly clearing not far up from where he walked. He stopped. Vincent glanced at him questioningly.

 “That’s it, that’s the top of the mountain.” Cloud explained. They couldn’t yet see what lay beyond; only the pale white sky stretching endlessly, and no trees to hinder the view. Cloud stared for a moment longer. Then he started walking again.

 As he kept climbing, the rugged horizon of the top of the mountain lowered and lowered until he could peek out and see beyond. What he saw was a steep downfall. No snow there. The snow and ice just ended, abruptly like that, and the ground was almost vertical as it dropped down to a pit in the middle. Everything was dead in and around the hole. Plant life ended suddenly as the hole started, and even the dirt and the rocks there seemed dead. Cloud stopped just at the edge of it. He looked down.

 “What’s that? Whoa…” Yuffie stumbled, almost fell but Cid grabbed hold of her. They all watched as the pebble Yuffie had kicked down tumbled fast to the center, where a strange sort of energy seemed to be pulling everything toward it. The pebble didn’t reach that far, though. It broke and shattered, and became pieces of dirt midway. Yuffie shuddered and turned her eyes away from it. Barret glared at it, as if he could will it away.

 “I don’t like this.” Nanaki said finally, after a long silence.

 “What’s _this_?” Cid frowned.

 “An old crater, it seems like.” Cloud said. “Something fell out of the sky and crashed down here… Leaving a scar on the planet.” He hardly knew where his words were coming from. They felt like scripted lines.

 “A scar…?” Tifa mused, looking thoughtfully at the crater.

 “And the planet is trying to heal its wounds by gathering all its energy here?” Cait Sith said. Cloud thought it made sense, so he nodded.

 “Sounds about right,” he said. “But we can’t be sure.”

 “If Aerith was here, she’d be tellin’ us…” Barret started, but trailed away.

 “Yeah, she would.” Tifa said quickly to close the topic. She glanced nervously at Cloud. Cloud suddenly felt their stares. They all looked at him, looked _around_ him like he might break down or something. He tried to say something, the air came out once, twice, and finally he managed to speak in a normal voice again.

 “It’d have been nice,” he said. Again, he hardly knew what he was talking about.

-

 Their steps became heavier as they neared the center. They were all walking carefully, making sure the ground would hold before taking a step. One misstep, and they could roll down uncontrollably. Cloud was leading the group and Tifa was following closely behind.

 “I don’t know what’s taking them so long.” Tifa said lightly, a hint of mischief in her voice. Cloud could tell that she was trying to be bubblier than she felt, but he didn’t say anything about that. It was as much for Cloud as it was for Tifa herself. He wanted to say thank you, but thought that maybe it would sound awkward so out of context.

 “I heard that!” Barret yelled from behind. “Just ‘cause you two mountain goats grew up in the friggin’ mountain…”

 Tifa laughed, and Cloud shook his head as he picked his way easily among the uneven downhill. But it was true, climbing rocky regions was much easier for the two of them, and Tifa’s breath had barely hiked during the walk.

 “So,” she said in an easy voice, trying to sound light-hearted again. “It’s time to settle things with Sephiroth, huh?”

 Cloud glanced at her before nodding silently, but then she wasn’t looking at Cloud. She was staring down at where her feet went and hair was covering the side of her face. So Cloud spoke out loud.

 “Yeah, I guess.” His voice sounded crude even to his own ears.

 “I also lost… things,” Tifa’s voice caught at her throat, but when she finally looked up and straight ahead, there was no sign of moisture on her face. “… because of Sephiroth. So we’ll go together, okay? No crap like, it’s too dangerous for you, or anything like that.” She looked at Cloud, straight, and suddenly Cloud wanted to laugh out loud. It was like they were little kids again, deciding who would go into the haunted mansion.

 “Yeah, I know, Tifa. Friends are supposed to stick together.” He said. Then he smiled, and thought it might have reached his lips this time; because Tifa smiled too. She looked a little taken aback at first, but then her face broke out in a brilliant smile that made Cloud feel like a kid again. 

 Cloud was about to say something else when a loud noise interrupted them. He looked up and found a familiar shape loom over them, casting a large shadow. It was an airship, and it looked familiar though he could not remember where he’d seen it. Apparently, though, someone else recognized it.

 “ _Highwind!!”_ Cid yelped, almost knocked backwards from looking up so fast.

 “Your name?” Barret said. Cid growled at him.

 “No, you idiot! That’s the Highwind, the airship I personally built a few years back!”

 “That’s yours?” Yuffie asked in surprise.

 “Yes! I mean, technically, yes. I built it so it should be mine but… those damn Shinra took it from me.” He seemed to be seething with rage. Barret patted his arm sympathetically.

 “But the important thing is,” Nanaki said, earning a deathly glare from Cid. “That Shinra is here. Why are they here?”

 “It don’t matter _why_. Ev’ry time they show up, somethin’ bad happens!” Barret said. No one could argue with that. They all watched with distaste as the Highwind lowered itself down onto the ground, beyond the other edge of the crater.

 “It’ll take some time for them to walk here.” Cait Sith said.

 “You! You sold us out again, huh?” Cid wheeled around facing the toy cat, who squirmed back a little on Nanaki’s head. Nanaki growled softly, threatening.

 “No! I swear… not this time!” Cait Sith protested. Cid narrowed his eyes, took a menacing step forward but Vincent’s arm held him back.

 “That’s not important now.” He said in a matter-of-fact voice. Cid glowered at him for a second, then a little longer at Cait Sith, but eased up. Cait Sith breathed out a sigh of relief.

 “Look, I don’t expect you to believe me a hundred percent… But it’s the truth.”

 “Yeah, whatever.” Cid growled.

 “So what do we do now?” Tifa asked, eyeing the general vicinity of the Highwind’s landing spot. They couldn’t see the airship from where they stood.

 “I guess we keep going.” Cloud quirked his eyebrow. Tifa nodded, Yuffie rolled her eyes, Cid heaved a deep sigh and Barret clapped his hands together as if in prayer. Cloud watched all of this, with a distinct feeling of detachment, like he was half out of his body. Looking through the light blue eyeballs, but not really seeing. He wondered why they needed him to point out the obvious. Of course they kept going. What else were they going to do?

 “Cloud. Are you alright?”

 Cloud startled at Vincent’s voice, a hand on his shoulder that suddenly brought him back to reality. Cloud stared at it, heartbeat thumping irregularly. The heartbeats. Yes, he could feel them again. Also the not-cold wind that tousled his hair. He saw the dust swirling a little above the ground, making circles. He heard the complete nothingness in the air. No birds, no animals around here. They’d all fled. And it suddenly occurred to Cloud that they should have done the same. They should just turn back right now, walk out… while they still could.

 “Cloud?” Vincent frowned a little, his grip on Cloud’s shoulder tightening. Cloud looked up.

 “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”

 He turned and started walking down the slope again. His heart kept beating like a frightened little bird, trying to escape from the rib cage.

-

 In the middle of the crater lay a big slap of rock. Only it was also a wall. A gate. Cloud could see that there were steps leading around the rock and spiraling down beneath. They weren’t artificial steps. Pieces of rocks and earth shaped and formed themselves to form a perfect stairway to whatever lay beyond. Yuffie tiptoed to peak at it, but only darkness seemed to be staring back at her. They wouldn’t know what was in there, unless they climbed in themselves. Yuffie took a deep breath.

 “So, I guess we’re going in?”

 “Look, Yuffie. No one’s making you come. If you don’t wanna…” Cloud started, only to be kicked in the shin by the princess of Wutai.

 “Shut up, Cloud. Whatya think I am, a coward?”

 She wasn’t looking at Cloud, though. She was glaring at the dark hole beneath the rock, glaring like her eyes could light a fire and let them see what was there.

 “Apparently not.” Barret rolled his eyes. “Awright, who’s goin’ first?”

 “I…” Cloud started speaking again, but was interrupted. Again.

 “No one’s makin’ you go first, buddy.” Cid cocked his eyebrow. “For all we know, this could be a trap for _you_.”

 “Yeah, I know, that’s why I should…”

 “Shut up, Cloud.” Yuffie said for the second time, and before any of them could do anything, jumped into the hole first.

 “Yuffie!” Cloud ran after her. His foot stepped on the top piece of rock-stair, then his other foot shot forward and found nothing but air where another step should have been. Cloud watched his foot slash the liquid-dark air like a blade, then his other foot following the pattern, and then himself falling down. The darkness embraced him like hellfire. He felt something grab his arm, and looked up to meet Tifa’s wide eyes staring back at him before the black cut him off completely. Then he could see nothing, feel nothing except that he was falling. He was falling, and the air should have put up some resistance but it didn’t. It let Cloud seep through its holes, like it was afraid of something. Cloud fell and it was a moment before his body crashed into the ground, right arm first. He felt the bones cracking but acknowledged no pain at all. He sat up, supporting himself with his unbroken left arm and looking around himself. There was nothing but dark. Color black so dark… it almost stabbed and burned the eyes looking at it. But still he looked.

 “Yuffie? Tifa?” He called. His voice came out hoarse, and it didn’t travel far. The darkness swallowed it whole. It didn’t let Cloud move, but he had to. He felt around himself frantically, calling out but no voice came out. _Tifa. Yuffie. And whoever else fell in with me…_

His right arm dangled broken by his side. It got swept by the floor, crackling like marionette dolls whose strings had been cut off. But he felt no pain. It was almost like the darkness had swallowed that too. His voice, his pain, his sight, possibly his friends… And now it was coming for him. Cloud opened his eyes wide as if that would make a difference. As if…

 “This is the end… for all of you.”

 A voice rang so clear through the darkness. For a moment it cut through the black and through the ends left flailing like torn sleeves of a shirt, Cloud saw something. Someone. He started to move forward but the darkness blocked him again. The cut had healed.

 But Cloud knew whose voice it was. The voice that could make the darkness itself bleed black. He blinked, seeing his heartbeat quicken but not really feeling it.

 “Sephiroth?” Cloud called, looking around. An answer, and there will be another cut. He could see where they were. If they were alive.

 “Sephiroth! This is not the end!”

 He waited, knowing that a response would come. It always did. Sephiroth loved playing with his puppet, after all. Crunching it, breaking it, gluing the piece back together and watching it come all apart over again. Cloud took a deep breath. Sephiroth enjoyed watching him going mad. Rage, doubt, guilt, it didn’t matter. And Cloud had all.

 “Sephiroth! I am not your puppet!” He yelled, though he couldn’t hear himself speak and god knew where his voice went, lost in the maze of the blackness. But Sephiroth would hear it, alright. Cloud yelled again. “I am not your puppet! I…”

 “What, you are a person now, Cloud?”

 Sephiroth’s voice came from so close, it was all Cloud could do not to choke on his own heartbeat. But the moment Sephiroth’s voice reached his ears, there was another slice and Cloud could see for just another second. What he saw, who he saw, made his heart sink. Everyone. Everyone had followed him into this, but he couldn’t see them long enough to decide if they were still alive or just a pile of empty bodies on the floor.

 And another thing. He saw something glint, just a little speck, on the floor beside a shadow of one of his friends.

 “I’ve always been a person.” Cloud muttered. He didn’t bother yelling now. There was no point. Sephiroth would hear him, he was sure, his old friend would come back to mock him. That toneless voice.

 “Is that what you think?” Sephiroth sounded amused. Cloud heaved a sigh, flopping back onto the ground. He let his left arm lay silent on the ground beside that glint of silver.

 “Stop playing games with me, Sephiroth. I came here. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

 Even as he said it, anything that jumped into his mind, Cloud realized that it must be true. And it left him feeling like a little bird again. Trapped inside a cage, staring so hard at the blue sky that the bars between them would disappear. Thinking it was by some kind of free will, that he’d chosen to remain in the cage.

 “Well, I wouldn’t call this… a game, Cloud.”

 Sephiroth’s voice was so near. It was hard, in that split second, to figure out where it was coming from. Behind his back? His right side? He could feel the heavy weight of Sephiroth’s voice gashing the darkness open again and again. Each time he moved just a little bit more, reached for the silver.

 “You’re not the same. You… you’re just mad.” Cloud said. Sephiroth chuckled humorlessly.

 And it was in that moment when his hand was close enough to the silver, wrapped itself around it, and then he went with his gut feeling. He threw himself to the place where he thought Sephiroth would be, gripping the silver tight. Every current of darkness rebelled against him, but they were too surprised to hold him. Cloud felt the silver cutting through it, then stabbing at something. There was a gasp, barely above a whisper that he thought he must have imagined it…

 And then it was gone.

 Cloud fell face-first onto the ground from the momentum that still carried him. There was only air where he had stabbed something solid just moments ago. But it was air that was free of darkness. It was still dark, but there were shades and shapes that were distinguishable. Cloud’s arm automatically flew to his head to protect it from crashing into the ground. Only it was his left one, unfortunately. Cloud let out a surprised gasp when he felt a familiar pain shooting through his arms, shoulders, sending a current of tattered electricity.

 “Cloud! Are you alright?” It was Tifa’s voice. Then he felt a gentle hand touching his shoulder, but it was the left one. Cloud breathed in sharply.

 “Tifa, I think my arm… is broken.”

 “You think? Why’d you hafta jump in like that? And whatcha doin’ with my spear?” Cid grumbled. Cloud opened his eyes, not knowing when he had closed them, to find Tifa crouched beside him and Cid standing behind her. It was still dark so he could just make out their shapes.

 “Wait, you don’t know what just happened?” Cloud struggled to sit up, suppressing the pain and the groan. Someone grabbed his good arm and helped him up. Cloud jerked his head around to find Vincent’s silent stare.

 “What happened?” Vincent asked in a grave voice. Cloud paused. He realized that the glint of silver he had stabbed Sephiroth with, the ghost of him or something, was the tip of Cid’s spear. He held it out to Cid.

 “Nothing. I thought it was Sephiroth.”

 “An’ you were gonna stick him with my _spear_?” Cid asked incredulously.

 “Well, I was desperate. I don’t think it was…”

 Cloud flinched as Vincent grabbed his left shoulder and clicked it back into place. He would have to stay still for a while, as the Mako in his veins and bones worked to heal it.

 “ … Sephiroth, anyway.”

 “Maybe it was.” Nanaki said from below. He was sniffing about the grounds around him. “I smell something sinister was, indeed, here a moment ago.”

 “Well, it’s gone now.” Cloud said. He wasn’t going to remind them if they didn’t remember. The memory of the suffocating darkness still made his bones chill.

 “Stay on alert.” Vincent said simply.

 “Wait.” It was Yuffie. Though he couldn’t see her face, Cloud heard her voice tremble. It wasn’t of fear, though. Surprise… and excitement?

 “What is it?” Barret asked. Yuffie held up her hand as if to shush him, bent down and picked something up from the ground.

 Cloud’s breath caught when he realized what it was.

 “Hey, is it…” Cid started, but Yuffie didn’t let him finish. She was almost jumping out of her skin with excitement.

 “Black Materia! Looks like Sephiroth was really here, and he left this precious thing behind too!” She was laughing. “All this time chasin’ Materia finally pays off…”

 And she held the Materia out to Cloud. Cloud took it without really thinking, but one look at the fluid blackness that was still darker than anything in the cave, and he was reminded of everything, again. His defeat. He was still afraid. To repeat the mistake again. To be the puppet… again.

 “Wait,” He stammered, gripping hard at the Materia and at the same time wanting to drop it. “I… I can’t hold onto this.”

 “What? Why?” Barret said. As if he didn’t know. Cloud shook his head.

 “I might go nuts again. Yuffie, could…”

 “Oh, no thanks. I don’t want anything to do with that Black Materia.” Yuffie jumped back.

 “You? Refusing Materia?” Cid was incredulous. Yuffie shook her head, retreating a step further back.

 “You don’t understand. When I touched it… ugh, that thing is so… evil. So powerful.” There was genuine fear in her voice. And that, more than anything, seemed to have scared everyone else. Cloud turned to Cid next, but he was shaking his head before Cloud got a word out.

 “Me and Black Materia just don’t mix.” He said.

 “Barret…”

 “Why don’t you hold onto it, huh? Nothin’ bad gon’ happen.” Barret said unconvincingly. Cloud let out a sigh. “I don’t think I can.”

 “Fine, I’ll take it. Damn, man! Pressure’s on me now.” Barret grumbled, taking the Materia gingerly. Cloud felt a weight lift as soon as his fingers left the Materia. Barret, in turn, gasped. He cursed something inaudible.

 “Shouldn’t we hurry? The real Sephiroth is still close, right?” Yuffie said.

 “Yeah.” Cloud mumbled. He had a feeling. A bad feeling that gnawed at the back of his head. As his feet carried him further into the cave, he got that sensation again, that he was out of his body and just watching himself going through the motion. Cloud’s body looked so sure, walking fast, staring ahead. His mind knew better. It was as if it had taken refuge outside of its body, which was surely destined for something terrible. He stared at himself and at the same time heard his mind whisper condolences to him. As if he was already dead. As good as that, anyhow. Cloud wished Vincent would grab him in the shoulder again and bring him back to reality, force his mind to join with his body again. But how to communicate it, when he couldn’t seem to do anything more than stare?

 The cave got darker and darker. Until it wasn’t.

 It was white all over. It wasn’t exactly light, but just the absence of darkness. Cloud closed his eyes, and someone held his arm. Gripped it tightly, and he was back in himself again.

 “Cloud! What’s this? What happened?”

 “Calm down, Tifa.” Cloud heard himself speak. He felt his heart once again. “Sephiroth is near… anything could happen.”

 And, well, it did. When Cloud opened his eyes again, quicker than anyone else, what he saw left him speechless. He stared at his surroundings. It probably should have scared him more, but he couldn’t even muster up enough energy to be scared. Just one word escaped his mouth, like a silent prayer, or a curse.

 “Nibelheim.”

 “What? _Nibelheim_? Are you high on Mako or…” Barret opened his eyes, and the rest of his sentence trailed away. He stared around himself, eyes wide.

 “What the hell?” Cid grumbled. Tifa tried to speak something, but no words came out.

 Welcome to Nibelheim.

Cloud stared at the familiar battered sign that had been falling apart forever.

 The barren trees, the wooden gate, the dirt that invaded every breath. They were in front of Nibelheim once again.

-

 “But why Nibelheim? This is freaky, _really_ freaky!” Yuffie shuddered.

 “Tell me ‘bout it.” Cid quirked his eyebrow. The sun was high up, probably noon. It wasn’t golden, just a pale white with a streak of yellow around the rims, the best that the Nibelheim sun could ever get.

 “This is an illusion Sephiroth made up. He’s trying to confuse us.” Cloud said. He was unnerved by all this, true, but he wasn’t going to fall for Sephiroth’s tricks again. Wasn’t going to be a puppet in his games.

 “It’ll be alright. As long as we now it’s an illusion, there’s nothing to be afraid of.” He said more to convince himself than anything else. “Come on, let’s keep going.”

 “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.” Tifa said. Cloud noticed she was flighty, more nervous than usual. And she was in such a hurry to get out of this place, as if… As if she knew what was coming?

 Or _who_ was coming.

 Cloud stared as four people marched up to the gate. His heart had gone numb. He didn’t know why, he only recognized one of them. Sephiroth, leading the other three to the gate. Cloud tried calling but his voice wouldn’t come out right. Broken. Sephiroth stopped at the front of the gate, touched the battered sign that Cloud now realized was soaked. The ground had puddles, and the air was moist too. He realized which day this was. The day that he’d visited Nibelheim, first time since he’d left. Before Sephiroth had gone… When he was still a friend. A comrade. And Cloud remembered seeing it, Sephiroth touching that sign like he was fascinated by all this.

 Cloud turned his eyes to where he knew, remembered, himself would be but wasn’t surprised when he found someone else. It was Sephiroth’s game. He could be trying anything to confuse them, or to add to the pile of doubt in Cloud’s mind. It was already built on so many layers that one more pebble might trip it. Bring the whole thing tumbling down…

 Only Cloud wasn’t going to fall for that. Not anymore.

 And that was how, he thought later, how he had made himself look. Where Cloud remembered standing, watching uneasily as Sephiroth mused over his hometown, someone else now stood. He remembered feeling anxious. He hadn’t wanted to be the ‘country boy’, even if he was. He remembered thinking all this was too small, too dirty, too old. The sign and the buildings and the unpaved roads and the people who still got their water from drinking wells.

 And even though he remembered all that, he saw someone else standing where he should have been. The man was a SOLDIER too, a first class. He had a hair like raven, black with a streak of deep blue. He wore a peculiar expression. He was watching Sephiroth in Cloud’s place and probably not thinking about how backwater this village of his was, but he still looked like he had a lot to say. His lips were twitching as if the words were banging on them to be let out. He had Mako eyes, blue, like the sky after a hurricane. Behind him stood two faceless infantrymen. They were wearing their masks.

 “Sephiroth…” The man finally spoke, when Sephiroth’s musing continued. His voice was lighter than Cloud had expected. A little sharp around the edges, too, like his eyes. Only something about his expression, crumpled up like a puppy in pain, smudged those sharpness and eased the tension. “That sign contain the mysteries of the universe or something?”

 “No.” Sephiroth’s answer was brief. He looked back at the man, who was now wearing an exasperated expression completed with arms crossed in front of his chest. It was a little overdone, Cloud thought, but that was how the man functioned. Everything about him reached over and under the normal boundaries. From his wild raven hair that he’d tried to sweep back unsuccessfully, to the gigantic sword that he carried like a feather on his back… wait.

 Cloud recognized that sword.

 “All right, let’s go.” Sephiroth said. The four men walked past the sign and into the village.

 Cloud’s hand automatically flew above his right shoulder. He gripped the sword, weighing the familiar substance. It felt right in his palms. It was his sword, after all. And the same one that the unfamiliar man was carrying on his back. Cloud watched their backs as they made their way into the center of the town square. There was no one there. They would meet no one else until they entered the inn. Then all eyes would fall upon them, some curious but mostly fearful, and Cloud would feel a slight throb at his side. Because, even after everything, it had been his home. Cloud knew all that. He remembered.

 “That ain’t… Cloud.” Barret said. They had all been watching the bizarre scene unfold, silently following this illusion Sephiroth had made. Cid arched his eyebrows.

 “Real perceptive, champ.”

 “I mean… you know what I mean. Ain’t this the day you told us about, Cloud? ‘Cept that black-haired boy. You didn’t tell us ‘bout him.” Barret wheeled around to face Cloud. Cloud felt like he might suffocate. He felt the raindrops lingering and seeping into the air around them.

 “That’s ‘cause he wasn’t there. I don’t know who he is. That should be me in his place.”

 And then the strangest thing. Tifa looked away like she had heard some awful truth, looking like she might burst into tears. Cloud was about to ask her what was wrong, when there was another white flash like before and he felt the world around him melt and mould itself into a different allusion. In the swirling mess of particles and white light, it suddenly occurred to him that it could have been something else that Tifa had heard. An awful lie. But he didn’t have time to dwell on that, because. Because, well.

 The next illusion. Perhaps he should have guessed. Maybe he already had, just didn’t want to acknowledge it. Cloud heard the familiar smell of death, felt the red flames flickering their tongues at him. The heat was unbearable, skinning the air, but he could barely feel it. And he knew it wasn’t because this was an illusion. He remembered the day like it was seconds ago. It was because he couldn’t. Feel. Anything.

 “This is terrible… Did Sephiroth…” Nanaki didn’t finish his question. He already knew the answer. Vincent looked about himself with an unreadable expression, at the houses and the soil and the sky burning.

 Yuffie’s glances darted around the fires, taking everything in, burning with fear and disgust. Cloud just closed his eyes. He didn’t want to go through it again. He’d already played it back in his mind a million times before. He’d lived every moment again and again. He knew where he was and what would happen next.

 “This is what happened five years ago. But it’s… probably not me that’s going to come out of the Shinra mansion.” Cloud opened his eyes and stared at the door of the mansion, half-hidden by the orange sparks that danced and screamed. “He’s going to try and show us another illusion.”

 It was that man again. He was a mess. Chunks of his raven hair had burnt, the rest disheveled. Black ashes and soot were smudged all over his face and his exposed arms, and his uniform was torn and burnt. And his eyes. They were wide. Cloud knew it was fear in them, disbelief, betrayal and hurt. He remembered.

 “Hey!” A voice called from behind the group. Cloud remembered who that was, too. He heard Tifa draw in a sharp breath. It was Zangan, the man who had once told Cloud that he’d taught Tifa how to fight. He was now waving to the SOLDIER.

 “Hey, it’s you! You’re still sane, right?” Zangan yelled. The man just nodded, horror twisting his stomach and muting him. He made his way through the ashes and reached Zangan. He looked down at the bearded man, fires cracking and screeching all around them, and started in a hesitant voice.

 “I think,”

 He never got to finish that thought. The scene flashed white again.

 They were once again standing in the town square, only it was nothing now. Only black. Small fires still crackled in some places. The sky snowed black ash. The smell, it was so sharp that it cut right through to his head. People were lying about. Burnt. Dead.

 “Sephiroth,” Cloud called, because he knew that Sephiroth must be watching somewhere, with a smirk on his face, enjoying his little show. “I know you’re listening. I know what you want to say. That I wasn’t in Nibelheim five years ago… that’s it, isn’t it?”

 A heartbeat of a moment passed. Then a voice, that cut through everything and even the darkness, answered from behind.

 “I see you finally understand.”

 “God, where did _you_ come from?” Yuffie jumped.

 Cloud turned slowly. He was breathing slowly too, even as his heartbeat was erratic. All the smell. It was making him dizzy.

 “What you are trying to say, is that you want to confuse me, right? But even making me see those things won’t affect me. I remember it all. The heat of the fire. The pain.” He chose his words carefully, making each one as honest as he could. And he hoped to God that they were the truth.

 “Oh, is that so?”

 Because he had a feeling.

 “You are just a puppet.”

 This feeling. That told him something was wrong.

 “You cannot feel any pain.”

 That he had spoken a lie somehow. Though he tried so hard to be honest. He couldn’t. And he didn’t even know where it was wrong…

 “I am not…”

 Cloud tried to speak the now-familiar line of protest. _I am not a puppet_. It was what he held onto, what he told Sephiroth and himself over and over again. No matter how wrong they were built, how screwed up and broken and damaged they were; Sephiroth couldn’t control Cloud like he held his strings in his palms. No. Humans couldn’t be puppets.

 But then, why couldn’t he say that now? He tried to move his lips to form a sentence, to fight again, but his tongue felt cut off. Only empty, black space where it had once been.

 “How can there be any meaning in the memory of such a being?” Sephiroth continued, obviously enjoying himself. Cloud wanted to tell him something, anything, but his lips wouldn’t budge. He was vaguely aware of his friends watching their exchange at the back, only he couldn’t really feel it. All he saw was Sephiroth against the blackened ashes of a town that once was. All he heard was the smirk in that voice, so deep and penetrating. All he could smell was death everywhere, confusion and chaos inside his head. All he could feel was…

 “What I have shown you is reality. What you remember, that is the illusion… Do you understand?”

 I don’t want to understand.

 Gradually, everything else faded too. The sights, the smells, the feelings. Until only the eyes remained. Green madness. All he saw, all he heard, all he felt. Those eyes were all he was. And Cloud understood. He finally understood.

 “Why… are you doing this?” His own voice sounded distant. Only the eyes were real. That green was real. Because everything else was an illusion. He was an illusion too, now he understood. He wondered if he was crying. He didn’t think so. He didn’t think puppets were allowed to cry.

 “I want to take you back to your real self. The one who gave me the Black Materia that day… who would have ever thought a failed experiment would prove so useful?” Sephiroth chuckled. “Hojo would die if he knew.”

 “Hojo?” Cloud asked, and it came out as a cracked whisper.

 Sephiroth paused, relishing the moment, because this was what he had been waiting for. The truth. The truth hurt. It was so much easier to believe in a lie.

 Cloud felt absolutely nothing as Sephiroth recited the truth. The one, final truth.

 “Five years ago you were… _constructed_ by Hojo, piece by piece, right after Nibelheim was burnt. A puppet made up of vibrant Jenova cells, her knowledge, and the power of Mako. An incomplete Sephiroth-clone. Not even given a number… That is your reality.”

 That is your truth.

-

 “Cloud!” Tifa yelled. Cloud didn’t look back. She ran to him, and grabbed his shoulder. She made him look at her. She was crying, but he wasn’t. There was no emotion in his face that it scared her. She knew he had given up, but after everything? After fighting so hard, he had given up like this? One speech from Sephiroth. Cloud was so ready to believe in an awful truth that it made her angry. Ready to fall with the lightest of a push. It wasn’t the top of the roof, it was a cliff, and he had no wings. When she was a kid Tifa used to think he might, because he looked about ready to fly and dissolve into the golden sunshine every time he looked up to the sky. But he didn’t. He would fall, he would break.

 “Close your eyes! Don’t listen to him, please, Cloud…”

 As Cloud finally registered Tifa, his expression shifted. He looked startled to find her crying. Of all things, he was surprised that she was scared.

 “What’s wrong, Tifa?” He asked. Tifa wanted to laugh, but didn’t. She closed her eyes and breathed out hot tears. She looked at Cloud again and held him tight by his arms.

 “All that talk of Hojo constructing you is a lie. Don’t we have our memories together? Being kids together, starlit nights…”

 Sephiroth started laughing.

 “If that is all a lie, then why are you so scared by those words, Tifa?” Sephiroth said. His gaze locked onto Tifa’s. She felt sick. Sephiroth’s gaze, rather a scrutiny, left her feeling bare and shaking. Mostly because she knew. She knew he might be telling the truth.

 “Shall I show everyone here, what’s in your heart?”

 She felt a drop of tear slide down on her cheek. She wanted to give up and start crying. Give up everything. She couldn’t hold his gaze any longer. Sephiroth’s green eyes were laughing, mocking, but she was crying. She dropped her eyes. More tear rolled down in burning trails. She couldn’t, anymore. She couldn’t look at Cloud and then lie to him.

 “You look like you’re not feeling well.” Sephiroth mocked a concern. The tone, his voice, everything made her so angry but she couldn’t look at him again. She couldn’t look at Cloud. She was afraid.

 “Tifa?” Cloud called her so softly. His voice was like stardust. At times she would be expecting him to fly away, so fragile, so beautiful, and other times she would be expecting him to crumble into ashes at the spot. Like a glass star bursting into a thousand pieces. Leaving only ember. Glittering ember. He was calling her now. “Tifa… is Sephiroth right?”

 He sounded unsure. And another thing, he didn’t sound blank either. Despite everything she looked up at that. Cloud’s face looked blurry through her eyes, wet with unspoken weight of the lie. He was looking at her. Though his eyes were unsteady, fearful, unsure, he wasn’t wearing that lost expression from before. And that, above everything, scared her the most. Because she just didn’t know what to do anymore. Lie again? Tell the truth?

 But the truth might just break him this time. He just might fly away, scuttle in ashes in the wind. And she would be left with nothing but the endless blue sky that would always, always remind me of his eyes.

 “Tifa… why are you so scared?” Cloud said. Tifa wanted nothing more than to look away, but it was all she could do to stand still and hold back her tears. She couldn’t even breathe. She couldn’t look away from his face. Ever. And he continued to speak.

 “Don’t worry about me, I’m alright. You’re right. I shouldn’t believe a word that Sephiroth says…”

 She forgot the air around her. Everything was lost to pieces of dust.

 “It’s true that sometimes I can’t figure out who I am. There’s a lot of things muddled up in my memories. But Tifa…”

 She wanted to make him stop. But she didn’t say anything. Her lips wouldn’t move. The world was nothing but gray, Cloud remained a beautiful hue of sky blue, and his voice was like a current heading down the waterfall. Like a piece of wood engulfed in that current, Tifa heard him speak.

 “But Tifa. But you said ‘ _Long time no see’,_ right? For a long time those words held me together. Whenever I doubted… I’d think of them and I’d know. I am the one you grew up with. I’m Cloud of Nibelheim. No matter how much I lose faith in myself, that is the truth.”

 And then,

 the insignificant chunk of wood finally slipped and fell down the waterfall. The water and the current viciously tore it apart, smashed it into uncountable pieces. Until only the ashes remained that didn’t even fly in the wind. They got swept up by the water.

 “You still don’t understand? Then… do you remember the picture that we took before we headed for Mt. Nibel? But surely, Tifa, you do remember?”

 “Stop…” But her voice came out feeble. She wasn’t sure if anyone else could have heard that.

 “But there is no way Cloud would know.” Sephiroth laughed. “Now… what happened to that picture?”

 His eyes searched the illusionary chaos he had created. There was a man lying near the pillar of what used to be a bar, and Tifa realized she knew who it was. She felt her heart flutter weakly. Almost like a dying beat of a butterfly’s wings.

 “Is this it?” Sephiroth walked over to the man, the cameraman Mr. Holland. He was still clutching his camera as he died. Sephiroth slipped it from the man’s hand. His foot carelessly ground against the other hand. The hand, already half-burnt, disintegrated into ash.

 “Do you want to see it? It turned out pretty good.” Sephiroth turned to Cloud. Tifa could only breathe.

 “Cloud… don’t…”

 Cloud took the photo in his hands.

-

 Cloud took the photo in his hands. He already knew what would be there. There, the raven-haired SOLDIER again in his place. And he’d already made up his mind to trust himself this time. No matter what. He wouldn’t fall for Sephiroth’s game again.

 This picture’s a fake, he thought. The truth is in my memory.

 Five years ago, I came back to Nibelheim to inspect the reactor. I was sixteen. The town hadn’t changed at all… what did I do? I saw my mom again. I saw the people in the town. I went to Tifa’s house, but she wasn’t there. I played the piano…

 I spent the night and went to the reactor in the Nibel Mountains. I was excited about it. Because that was my first mission after becoming First Class SOLDIER.

 Wait.

 SOLDIER, First Class.

“SOLDIER, First Class…” He heard himself murmur. His head was spinning wildly.

 When did I get into SOLDIER?

 How did I join SOLDIER?

 “Why,” can’t I remember?

“I’m,” _I’m…_

 That’s right.

 I didn’t have to worry about it, because I was…

Cloud straightened up. His breathing was back to normal. He looked back to normal. There was no Sephiroth. No one else, either. He couldn’t remember when they had all disappeared, but it was just him and Tifa and the dark. Sephiroth was gone and so was the illusion he’d created. They were just standing… in a dark cave again.

 “Cloud?” Tifa’s voice sounded frightened.

 “Let’s go, Tifa. I’m… I’m all right.”

 And his voice sounded hollow. Emptier than the dried well they used to sit by as children. His memory touched that little piece of broken glass and he shuddered.

-

 Barret couldn’t get his bearings right. One minute they were staring at this sick illusion Sephiroth had whipped up, then the next there was black. A whole lot of black. Then they found themselves standing inside a dark cave somewhere… all except for Tifa and Cloud.

 And everyone looked as confused as he was.

 “Are Cloud and the others awright?” He asked because he had to, not that he expected an answer.

 “Where are we?” Nanaki growled.

 “You mean you don’t know? Dammit, I was countin’ on you…” Barret sighed. Nanaki had the best sense of direction of the whole lot. And if he couldn’t figure out where the hell they were…

 “Looks like Sephiroth transported us here.” Vincent said.

 Just then, from the other side of the cave where there was only more darkness playing around, Tifa came running in. Barret couldn’t remember a time he was this glad to see her.

 “Barret! You’re alright!”

 “Tifa! Something’s weird here! It got pitch black all of a sudden, and you an’ Cloud disappeared!” Barret hoped Tifa would explain. Anything. But she shook her head.

 “Cloud’s in trouble. Please, come, help us! Over there…”

 “Huh?” Barret blinked. Everything was so fast all of a sudden. He glanced at others behind him, but they all looked just as dumb as him.

 “I don’t know what’s goin’ on, but let’s just get on with it.” He decided. He’d figure things out later. That boy was in trouble, again, and he’d have to help. That was sort of what he signed up for, he guessed.

 “Oh, and… you have the Black Materia, right?” Tifa suddenly asked.

 And Barret had this weird feeling, that something was a little bit wrong here, but he just nodded.

 “Yeah I got the Materia.”

 “Good.”

 Tifa smiled.

 And Barret could’ve sworn that her eyes flickered to a deep shade of green, just for a second and then it was gone. It was back to her normal golden brown again. Barret hesitated, but Tifa hurried him off. She looked so desperate. She was always desperate when it came to the boy. Barret nodded, then erased all doubts from his mind. Probably it was ‘cause he was so damn tired. A trick of the light or something.

-

 Cloud watched Barret and the others run up to him. He thought he should’ve felt glad or relieved because they were safe, but he didn’t feel anything. That should’ve troubled him. It didn’t.

 “Hey, I heard you were in trouble?” Barret said, out of breath. Cloud watched him with a blank expression. He found himself automatically counting the number, as was his habit whenever the group got back together again. He counted two less. One was Aerith. The other one was Tifa. He remembered seeing her just moments ago. His stare wandered to where she’d been standing, but there was no one there. He tried to remember what had happened to her… but couldn’t, and gave up. He didn’t feel worried anyway. He didn’t feel anything.

 “Thanks, Barret. Where’s the Black Materia?” His mouth moved on its own.

 “It’s safe. I have it.” Barret patted his pocket. His eyes were suspicious, but not suspicious enough. Cloud nodded slowly.

 “I’ll take it from here. Give me the… Black Materia.” He held out his hand.

 Barret’s hand slid inside his pocket, and Cloud could see his hand gripping the Materia. But the hand stayed there, hesitating. Barret frowned.

 “You alright?”

-

 No, Cloud, don’t. Don’t… give up now. Not now. Not ever.

  _The voice is back again. Cloud knows whose it is. It’s his own, and that means it doesn’t have any power. It can’t stop him. Cloud shakes his head._

 “It’s too late.”

 Don’t do this, please. Where’s Tifa?

 “I don’t know. I have to do it.”

 You don’t have to… you can still fight…

 “I can’t. I can’t fight what I am.”

-

 Cloud realized that he must have looked too blank. No wonder Barret couldn’t trust him. He took a deep breath. The air pulsed through his lungs and veins, which felt strangely empty. He exhaled.

 “Yeah. I’m okay.” Cloud managed a smile with that.

 “Okay, then…” Barret seemed to believe him. He slowly took out the Materia, then held it out to Cloud. “Here. Had a lot of pressure holdin’ that thing.”

 “Thanks. Leave the rest to me.”

 He took the Materia. It didn’t burn his skin. It was just a light ball of swirling black mass. He stared at it for a while.

-

 “I just want to say something.”

 You still have a choice, Cloud, please.

  _The voice begs softly. It’s moist, like it’s been soaked in rain. Cloud shakes his head._

 “No, but I just have something to say.”

 Not to me.

 “Not to you, but I can’t speak and you’re the only one who can listen.”

  _The voice falls silent. Cloud blinks a few times. He hopes that somehow, they would all understand… Even if he can never get the words to come out._

 “Everyone, thanks for everything. And I’m sorry.” _It is a small word, sorry, but it still cuts him into pieces. He repeats it again and again. He is sorry. He is sorrier still, that it is the only thing he can say and that he can’t even speak it out loud._

 “Especially you, Tifa. I’m really sorry.” _Cloud closes his eyes. Then he remembers that it is in his head and he is allowed to cry here. It is cold, so cold._

 “There. That’s all.”

  _And the unspoken words stay in the air for a little while longer, then dissipates and drips away. His tear catches them and pulls them down, breaks the words. Letters fall apart and die by his feet in a silent puddle. Soon there is nothing but emptiness._

-

 He hadn’t been pursuing Sephiroth. He had been summoned by Sephiroth. All the anger and hatred he had made it impossible for him to ever forget Sephiroth. That was what he had given Cloud.

 Cloud’s fingers tightened around the Materia.

 Sephiroth? Sephiroth? I’m here. And I brought you the Black Materia. Show yourself to me. Where are you? Sephiroth…

 This was what he was supposed to do. This was his purpose. There was no use fighting against it now. Except one thing…

 “Sephiroth is going to be here now.” Cloud told Barret, and everyone else standing behind him. They seemed to be too startled to say anything to that, and Cloud made the most of that pause.

 “Take Tifa, she’s… “ He finally remembered where she’d gone to. He’d knocked her out, though he couldn’t really remember why. Maybe because he didn’t want to say goodbye. “ … in the cave we passed earlier. Take her and get on the Highwind.”

 “You mean go to Shinra? You’re kidding.” Barret’s mouth dropped open.

 “I’m not kidding.” Cloud’s voice was still so calm. He looked into his friends’ eyes. “I mean, get away from here. As quickly as possible, and as far as possible.”

 “What? What are you going to do?” Yuffie sounded frightened. “Come with us, Cloud… you’re scaring me.”

 “I can’t.” Cloud shook his head, and he felt his mind blurring again. The moment of clarity was slipping away. He struggled to stay a little bit longer, just a little bit… He had to say goodbye. Because, somehow, Cloud knew that this time it would end. This time…

 “Go. Please.”

 This time his mind would lose its footing, slip, and it would never come back again. He just had to say goodbye. And that was exactly what he did.

 “Goodbye.”

 He had a notion that he might have said something more after that, but he couldn’t be sure. Then his mind started to break, like something had been beating inside his heart this whole time and now the shell was cracking… It probably already had too many hairline cracks that once it started, it wouldn’t stop. Until his entire mind was in pieces.

 He heard the first _crack_.


	27. Hole

  1. 26\. Hole



 

_“Once I had a dream, once I had a hope_

_That was yesterday, not so long ago_

_This is not the end, this is just the world_

_Such a foolish thing, such an honest girl.”_

From _If I Had a Boat_ by _James Vincent McMorrow_

-

 Tifa thought she would never forgive herself for telling him the truth.

-

 It was dark. She couldn’t see anything at all, not even her own eyelashes, as she blinked a few times trying to get her bearings. It was the same anyway. Eyes open, closed, then open again. She slid one foot across the floor, trying to guess what it was. It might have been marble, or concrete, or…

 There was a sudden light. Tifa shut her eyes in reflex, the light hurting her like razor blades. Little shadows danced between her closed lids. She opened them again slowly. The light was white, with an icy blue hue and gold all at the same time. She turned her head…

 Cloud.

Her breath caught at her throat. She could see Cloud sitting some distance away, just sitting with his back turned to her and staring up at something she couldn’t see. It was pitch-black all around but for Cloud.

Tifa started to walk, and then run, but the distance between her and Cloud didn’t seem to change. She stretched out her hands, but couldn’t reach him. She called his name over and over again but no sound came out.

 In the distance, Cloud turned his head to the side, just a little bit, as if he was looking at somebody sitting next to him. He was listening with an incredulous look on his face, then he laughed (Tifa couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard him laugh), and she realized she had stopped moving. Too late, anyway. Cloud was gone though the light lingered. Tifa looked around her, but he hadn’t even left a shadow to follow.

 She didn’t know what to do.

But then, she’d always been like that.

-

 It was a murky day, no color in the sky and everything around her toned down almost to black and white. The people walking around the slums of Midgar looked gloomier than usual, dragging themselves through the air that was getting chillier now. Winter was coming too soon. It was only September.

 But Tifa couldn’t feel the cold. Sweat rolled down in beads on her face, as she ran through the quiet streets of Sector Seven. People glanced at her as she ran past them. She only stopped a few blocks from the station, because she didn’t want to look like an idiot. She took deep breaths and walked slowly until her hair and breathing were back to normal. She was just outside the station, now. She stopped.

It had been a long time, after all. What was she supposed to say to him? Tifa suddenly gasped at her stupidity. She’d been so surprised, so excited that she’d ran out of the bar as soon as her neighbor told her that a young man had been looking for her at the station. The young man, he’d said, with a crazy spiky blond hair – and she knew who it was. And she’d sprinted out of her bar, not even stopping to think about what she’d say to him.

 Hi, Cloud.

 It’s been a while.

 Cloud! What are you doing here?

 Nothing was good enough. Her heart started picking up pace again. Tifa still remembered everything about him. His crazy hair, his eyes, his smile, the way he’d roll his eyes whenever Tifa challenged him to something, anything. A race. You want to race with me, Tifa? You sure? ‘Cause I ain’t gonna go easy on you. But he did. Sometimes the sunshine splashed in just the right way on his hair, his pale skin, and Tifa would have a sudden illusion of him flying away. She could almost see the wings, then, soft feathers and all. Into the blue sky. Then Tifa would be scared that he might leave her, and grab his shirt.

 As she remembered all that, her breathing slowed again. It was Cloud. She had nothing to be nervous about, because she knew him like her heartbeat and there was no reason to act like an awkward teenager again. She wanted to laugh. She knew exactly what Cloud would say. She would go in, he would stare at her for a moment, the silence would stretch… And he would grin. Make some comment about how she’d grown, or something. She would laugh easily with him, then take him to her bar. So, I hear you became a SOLDIER, huh?

 Tifa smiled to herself. Taking another breath, she stepped into the Sector Seven station. She spotted his familiar figure from far away, squatting on the short steps leading up to the platform.

 But her smile faded as she approached him. He was rubbing his hand absently against a plate of metal on his laps – no, a sword, a really big sword. Tifa’s heart squeezed as she got even closer. He hadn’t seen her yet. There was something very wrong about him, she thought, though she could not say exactly what. He’d grown a little taller, lines of his face a little bit sharper…

 But it was his eyes. The Mako, and something else she didn’t know the name of, and Cloud kept rubbing the sword. Tifa stopped walking. She just stood, and stared for a long time, until Cloud finally noticed her. He blinked a few times.

 Tifa couldn’t speak.

 “Tifa,” Cloud said, slowly getting up. He slung his sword easily over his shoulder and clicked it behind his back. “It’s been a while.”

 “Yeah.” Tifa finally managed. “Long time no see, Cloud.”

 Then she smiled, tentatively, but he didn’t return it.

She’d taken him to her bar then. Cloud told her it had been five years since they’d seen each other. Actually it had been seven. He told her that he’d gotten his wish, joined SOLDIER, but quit after the Sephiroth incident. He’d said that he was now a mercenary. He told her a lot about what happened after he’d left Nibelheim.

 But,

 Something was wrong. Tifa felt there was something strange about the things he talked about. All the things he didn’t know that he should. and other things he shouldn’t know that he did. She just wanted to make sure. But then she heard that he was not staying, planning on going far away… and she didn’t want that. She didn’t know what to do. She thought she needed more time. And that was why she told him about the AVALANCHE job. She wanted to be with him, to watch him. 

 That had been a few months ago now.

-

But Tifa had refused to give up on him. Cloud always wore that expression now, the weary one that was weighed down with so much that Cloud didn’t – couldn’t? – tell her about. Sometimes he would be in the middle of a conversation and just drift away, staring at something she couldn’t see, and not even realize it. Tifa would stop talking then. He wouldn’t even hear the silence. And she’d get that familiar fear again, the one about Cloud flying into the sky and never coming back. Tifa was tired, hopeless sometimes, and didn’t know whether she should be more scared or sad or angry. But after everything, she thought, if she could see that smile one more time. Then it would all be worth it.

 She was wrong. She couldn’t save him. Maybe she never could.

 Suddenly she realized she was staring at a ceiling. It was white, smudged with beige here and there. She lowered her glance slowly and was attacked by a too-bright, white light. She heard herself moan.

 “Tifa? You okay?”

 “Barret?” Her voice came out small and dry. Her lips were chapped. She felt a dull pain as it cracked and she tasted salty blood on her tongue.

 “Yeah, yeah, come on, take it easy.” Barret’s voice and hands helped her up gently into a sitting position. Tifa felt her head spin. She tried opening her eyes again, slower this time.

 “Where…”

 Someone put a glass to her lips and she let the water wash across her lips, trickle its way through her tongue and throat. It left a burning trail. She blinked a few times. She saw the end of a battered red cloak disappearing with the water glass. Vincent. So he was okay, too.

 “We’re on the damn Highwind.” Barret murmured.

 Tifa realized she was sitting on a long couch in a wide deck of some kind. The ceiling and the walls were white, except for one side which was completely windows. Vincent was leaning against it like the blurring scenery of light blue sky and cottons of clouds didn’t unsettle him. Tifa looked away from the sky.

 “Hey, there’s nothing wrong with the ship.” An offended voice growled behind her. Tifa wheeled around to find the others sitting behind her, where more couches and armchairs were spread around. There was really nothing else in the room.

 “What, they’re redecorating?” Yuffie rolled her eyes across the eerily empty, white room.

 “I just friggin’ build the ship. Don’t care what they do with the… furniture.”

 “How long was I out?” Tifa asked.

 “Not long. Maybe a few hours?” Barret answered.

 “So what… what happened? Exactly? What happened to me?” She didn’t really want to hear the answer, but she asked the question anyway. Barret traded nervous glances with the others that Tifa pretended not to notice. Her heart was beating dumbly, steadily, but it was too heavy. She suddenly needed more water. Her hand reached out to the end table at the foot of the couch, but Vincent was already holding out the glass to her. She took it gratefully.

 “Thanks.”

 Vincent just nodded. He was back in his place by the window in a blinking second.

 “Um… well. Sephiroth’s got the Black Materia now.” Barret started, hesitantly. Tifa almost choked out the water at that.

 “What? How? Weren’t you holding onto it?”

 “Yeah,” Barret laughed nervously, the sound breaking. “The thing is…”

 “The _thing_ is, Cloud asked him to hand it over and he did.” Nanaki finished Barret’s sentence for him. Tifa blinked at him.

 “Wha… why? Why would you do that?”

 She still remembered the way Cloud had looked at the Materia, like he would be cursed just by touching it. He hadn’t wanted anything to do with it, and he’d been right.

But then she also remembered Cloud’s face at the end. At the end, when she could keep the lie no more; something cracked in him then, she knew.

 “I dunno.” Barret heaved a sigh. “I shouldn’t of… I know. But man, it was Cloud…”

 “Yeah,” Tifa paused. “I know what you mean. So… what happened after that?”

 She asked just to distract herself. She didn’t really want to know after that. She didn’t care. She knew she should, it was the destruction of the Planet, but she couldn’t. Couldn’t make herself care. But she acted like it mattered.

 “After that, Cloud suddenly… came to, you know? And he told us all to get outta there. Sephiroth was comin’. He told us to take you and get to the Highwind.”

 “He said goodbye.” Yuffie suddenly said. Her expression was a little vacant, her fingers fiddling with the knife she’d pulled out from behind her ankle. Tifa didn’t know what to say to that.

 “Yeah. Then… then the ground and the walls started to shake real bad. Cloud was standin’ in the middle of it all… just standing. We tried to talk to him again but he didn’t answer. We had to get out.”

 “Or else the roof of the cave would’ve fallen on us.” Cait Sith said. Tifa nodded, a little numb.

 “Yeah… I suppose you had to.” Her voice sounded alien (you should have taken him. You shouldn’t have left him. You shouldn’t have left him).

 “We got out, we ran into the damn Shinra folks. Rufus Shinra himself, and that blonde woman and someone else… And Hojo.” Barret shuddered as if the name itself made him sick. “Didn’t really hafta talk them into letting us catch a ride, ‘cause the shaking was real bad by then and the Northern Cave started exploding in this… huge barrier of light. We got out as fast as we could.”

 “Yeah, the greasy scientist said that Sephiroth was sleeping in that big hole, that there was this _reunion_ crap and now he had his body back. And we can’t do a damn thing about it. We just gotta wait till he wakes up.” Yuffie said.

 “Reunion?” Tifa asked. She was still acting like she cared.

 “The Sephiroth clones.” It was Vincent who spoke this time. “Hojo created clones with Jenova cells. Sephiroth had the most cells and then there were others. The bodies of the people… of your town. And the Reunion is basically all the Jenova cells coming together. In the center is Sephiroth and his physical form is… reborn.” Vincent finished.

 Tifa felt her head spin again. This time it wasn’t from dehydration.

 “An’ on top of that, some huge monster called Weapon’s been on a rampage.” Barret added, almost like an afterthought. Tifa felt her energy, whatever was left of it, drain from her.

 “… Weapon?”

 “Remember that huge rock-thing that was at the bottom of the cave? Well, turns out it was a monster and it’s up here now. They say it’s some legendary monster from the past.”

 “Weapon… is protecting Sephiroth?” She got out her voice and it sounded normal. Steady, calm. Cid shrugged.

 “Dunno. But he’s up there goin’ around tearin’ things up. Right now Rufus Shinra is fightin’ it. Shinra technology.” Cid admitted grudgingly. “I hate to say it… but looks like we’re on the same page for now.”

 “Oh.” Tifa didn’t know what to think. She glanced at Barret and he shrugged his shoulder, too. They’d spent their entire time fighting Shinra. But bigger things were coming. Bigger things. Tifa suddenly remembered something else.

 “Hey, what about Meteor?”

 Barret grunted at that.

 “Look outside.” Nanaki said softly, and Tifa did, confused. At first she didn’t realize it because it was hanging like it had always belonged there. But a rock in the sky, the shadow looming, that was…

 “That’s Meteor?” She breathed. It was just a small spot in the sky now, but she knew it must be getting nearer and would grow much, much bigger. And then her voice kind of trickled out like a tap had been turned on. She didn’t even have time to stop it. “Do we have to give up?”

 There was silence.

 “Dunno,” Barret finally said.

 And then Tifa stopped asking questions. She knew that the others were waiting for her to ask something else, but that was the one question she would not ask. She was scared to know the answer.

She thought she saw the echo of him turn his head to her. He stared silently. She tried to read the answer through his eyes. But too soon, he was gone. Fading. Tifa closed her eyes.

-

 Reeve thought the new President Shinra must be joking, and said as much to Helen. Helen was a year or two older than him but he was her superior at the Shinra Urban Development Department. He trusted her. Sometimes he told her things that he wouldn’t admit had ever crossed his mind to anyone else.

 Helen was now frowning at him. They were setting the table for the meeting later. Normally it was a secretary’s job. This wasn’t a normal situation, though, and they were short on staff on this big, empty airship.

 “Reeve… you know he isn’t.” She said simply. Reeve stared at her for a moment, then a tight smile crossed his face. He _did_ know, in fact.

 “Sometimes I wonder, Helen.” He muttered as he poured water into another glass. It splattered a little. Helen pretended not to have heard that.

 “You know, you don’t have to help me with this, Reeve.” She said after a minute. “You _are_ the Head of our department, after all.”

 Reeve shrugged. “I like to help when I can.”

 And it was true. He’d been working for Shinra for a long time now. Sometimes he liked it and more times he didn’t, but there was a reason besides the salary that he came to work every day.

 There was noise outside. Helen placed the last glass on the table, and stood back, in the shadows. Reeve strolled to his seat by the door and stood behind the chair as the executives of Shinra started piling in the conference room. Rufus Shinra came in last, flanked by two Turks, Reno and Rude. Rufus took them everywhere these days. Reeve wasn’t sure if the two Turks minded following the President to every meeting and conference, to stand behind his chair for hours and basically not do anything much.

 Rude followed Rufus closely behind, his expression impassive. Reno slouched in, dragging his feet. He caught Reeve looking at him and his lips distorted in a cocky smile that Reeve wasn’t sure how to interpret.

 Rufus started the meeting right away. He was different from his father that way. He talked business most of the time. He had his logic, his reasons. He leaned forward in his chair and didn’t sprawl all over like the late President. He looked his executives in the eyes when he spoke, and everyone had to listen. He gave orders and gave reasons for them. But orders were still orders.

 “Sephiroth’s reborn. Meteor has been summoned.” Rufus rubbed his brows. “Essentially, it’s all but over now.”

 “What do we do, Mr. President?” It was Scarlet, The Head of Weapons Development Department.

 “We have to fight.” Rufus sighed. Reeve couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for the man.

 “The public is panicking, sir…” Japper Tyles, the Head of the Publicity and Media Department. “The explosion, the media… we have to give them something.”

 “Oh, we’ve already decided what to do about that.” Scarlet laughed. Reeve tensed up. He glanced at Rufus. Hopefully, hopefully he would say that he’d been joking all along. Of course he’d been joking. It didn’t make sense at all. Japper looked confused. Obviously he hadn’t heard the rumors yet.

“Wait, before that, President.” Hojo’s voice cut through the tense silence. “What to do with the… prisoners aboard?” His glasses glinted strangely in the setting sunlight. Reeve thought of the _prisoners_ and it made his stomach sick again. He wasn’t exactly a fan of AVALANCHE – they destroyed the city and planted fear in people’s minds. But he could also see why they did what they did. And he knew what Hojo was going to suggest. He was probably going to use them as some sick experimental subjects.

 “There is no need for them, but they have an important… task.” The way Rufus pronounced that last word, _task_ , affirmed Reeve’s fear. The rumor went…

 “Mister President! Preparations for the public execution are complete.” Heidegger chose that moment to barge in the conference room like a fat hurricane, and Reeve didn’t miss Rufus’s lips quirking up in a sly smile.

 The rumor went, that the remaining members of AVALANCHE were to be executed publicly for causing this situation. Because people were ignorant and they would feel better as long as someone was punished.

 Reeve knew that he would have to help them. He just didn’t know how. He swept the room with his eyes, but without much hope. Conversation was still going on, but he knew that the decision had already been made.

 Who could help him? Who would _want_ to? Scarlet was already cackling delightfully. Reeve noticed that even her fingernails were painted bright red and couldn’t help but think of blood. His gaze drifted past Tseng, who was keeping a straight face, and to the President, to the two Turks standing behind him…

 And, for some reason, Reeve found Reno looking at him. Reeve stared back. Reno’s green eyes were so vivid they were startling. The staring contest went on for about a minute, then Reno’s face slowly broke into a crooked grin. Reeve could only describe it as _wicked._

-

Reno was a kleptomaniac, and damn proud of it too.

It would probably be a bad habit to have if he ever got caught, but he didn’t, and therefore it wasn’t. It was fun. Reno was constantly bored, constantly looking for little things to make him grin, because he figured that was how life was; hunting for things to amuse him. He first stole something when he was seven. It was a pear, yellow and sweet and watery. Reno remembered staring at it for a long time in front of the fruit stand, because his mom – well, he couldn’t remember exactly what had happened, but she wasn’t there anymore. And he never saw her again. He guessed she might have run away with the butcher down the street. That was about a week after little Rina died, of pneumonia or something like that. She had been five years old and really annoying when she tugged and tugged at his shirt, but sometimes she was kind of cute, too. After she died the house had been so quiet, and Reno thought that his mom probably ran away because she couldn’t stand the silence.

 So that was how Reno found himself standing and staring at a pear in front of a fruit stand. Eventually the owner noticed the little boy with the insanely red hair, got suspicious and chased him off. Before he ran off, though, Reno took the pear. He took it, just like that, because his mom told him _no stealing unless you are really, really hungry_ and he was really, really hungry. The man didn’t even notice.

 Tseng found him at sixteen, seventeen? He’d originally taken Reno to become SOLDIER, but the rules didn’t really agree with him. The saluting, the stupid helmets and the boring little swords. What was with that? He got bored quickly. It took a prank or two for the authorities to realize that it was probably a bad idea to keep him there – so they moved him to the Turks. Reno liked to think that he’d been good so far. He liked the job. It kept him from getting bored… most times. Lately, though, if there was anything more boring than these tedious conferences Rufus took him to, he’d have to hang himself.

 So he was bored. He’d been staring at the back of Rufus’s shiny blonde head for far too long, it was detrimental to his health. Then his gaze wandered everywhere, absently wondering why people were looking so shocked. Well, except for Scarlet. He never liked her. She looked down at Turks like she was above them, even though most of the them could probably snap her neck without even blinking. They were just too nice to actually do it. And, well, it was kind of against regulations.

 That was when Reno felt his partner stiffen. He shot a curious look at Rude. To most people, Rude would just look like Rude and emotionless behind those sunglasses, but Reno had been working with him long enough to notice that he was nervous right now. Reno cocked his head, lightly kicking Rude in the leg. Rude glanced at him without actually moving his head, and mouthed something. _Listen._

Reno rolled his eyes. It was such a hassle to listen, but he sighed and paid attention to the conversation going on in the room.

 “ … People are ignorant. They’ll feel better as long as someone is punished.” Rufus was saying.

 “But a Public Execution, sir? In this age and time…?”

 “We are at war, Mr. Toshi. Desperate times.”

 Huh. Reeve clicked his tongue. A Public Execution, that was new. But that still didn’t explain…

 But then a damn familiar name caught his ears. It was the name he’d been after for so long.

When they were briefing him and Rude, they painted him like some dangerous, monstrous psychopath licking his bloodied sword after a fun killing. But then he actually met the little bastard and… and he was just a prettyboy blondie who had really weird hair was kinda emo, too. He was even shorter than Reno, he’d noted. Midget.

 And now they were talking about how he was dead. And the rest of his friends, the AVALANCHE, captured here on board. And apparently, they were going to be the shining highlight of the show. To be blamed for everything. Huh.

 That Ancient girl that Tseng obviously liked, despite his denial, was already dead. And so was Cloud Strife (Reno wondered if he was feeling anything about that). Then… who else? His thoughts flickered to the big muscle-head with the gun arm. He couldn’t have cared less about him. Also the talking cat and the talking… wolf? Whatever it was. Reno didn’t like them at all, because they crept him out. And then there was Cid Highwind, a past season engineer. Reno liked him okay. Man said what was on his mind. And then the annoying, loud little Wutai girl. Then there was that Vincent. a dark, looming presence in the back of every scene.

Oh, and there was Tifa.

 Reno sighed again and conspicuously rolled his eyes until they hurt, just so Rude knew what an awesome partner he was. If Rude noticed him, he didn’t let it show.

 Reno was kleptomaniac. And nobody ever saw him steal, let alone catch him. This time, too, nobody noticed as Reno slipped a hand in the President’s jacket hung on his chair. A card disappeared into Reno’s sleeve. He rubbed his finger on its smooth plastic surface, checking to make sure it was the right thing, then casually put it in his own pocket. The whole ordeal took all of three seconds.

 Reno knew what they were going to do with the prisoners. They were going to stick them in the gas chamber, because that was the only option viable. They needed bloody, but the right kind. Beheading them would be the wrong kind. Too gruesome for the pathetic weak hearts of the _public._ Guns were too boring. People were used to guns. He supposed they could fling them off from the airship, but didn’t think they would. The fallen bodies might cause panic. That left one other thing they could do in an airship. Reno didn’t know why an airship would have a gas chamber, but it did and that was where they would take the prisoners. Douchebags thought they were so smart. Reno smirked.

 Scarlet had the keys to the chamber. But it was impossible to get near her without being suspicious. He supposed Tseng, who happened to be the Head of the _Investigation Sector of the General Affairs Department_ (a.k.a. the Turks) and thus had to sit beside Scarlet, could have swiped it for him. Only Tseng wasn’t looking at Reno. He was staring at the table, looking lost and a little sick.

 There was another key, though. Rufus’s master key. It opened the door to everything anywhere. It was currently resting inside Reno’s jacket pocket. Reno felt smug. Oh, how he _loved_ kicking authority in the ass. It was such fun.

 And he also knew just who the key was going to. Reno was a good Turk, and a good Turk was observant. He’d noticed Reeve Tuesti shifting restlessly in his chair. Their eyes met. Reno gave him one of his most charming smiles. Reeve frowned.

 As they were all leaving the conference room, Reno lingered behind. It wasn’t unusual of him, either. Rude shuffled past him and gave a tight nod of appreciation. Reno snorted.

 Reeve lingered, too. He’d caught the drift. Reno slouched over to him, and slipped the key card inside the man’s suit pocket without him noticing. How nobody saw his hands move was beyond him. He guessed that everybody was just that dumb.

 “Reno,” Reeve greeted him. He looked questioningly at Reno.

 “Check your pocket, but don’t be too obvious about it.” Reno said easily. He turned to leave, but wheeled around again because he had to explain something. Reeve was blinking down at him, looking like a lost child.

 “Just to be clear.” Reno said. “I’m not doin’ this for you, or for them. I’m doin’ this for my partner, got it?”

 Reeve nodded, although he still looked unsure. Reno smirked, and walked away. He caught up with Rude and the President easily. Rude glanced at his direction, nodded thanks. Reno just shrugged, feeling generous. He felt sorry for Rude anyway. Tifa Lockhart sure was a catch, but she was so obviously head over heels for Cloud. _Although…_ Reno mused, _Cloud is dead now._ Maybe Rude stood a chance after all. But then, maybe not. Reno shook his head as he kept his easy stride behind Rufus.

-

 Tifa found the red light of the camera suffocating. Almost like the light was an eye of a live beast, looking through her, dissecting her. She turned away. A woman was speaking. She tried to recall her name, and failed. Everything was spinning so wildly now. The room had four, five, six walls. There was a door in the back that was made of rusty iron and it was one, but the next minute it turned into two different doors. Tifa scrubbed her foot across the floor beneath her just to remind her where she was. She watched her boots and wondered why they were shaking so badly.

 “Is everyone here?” The woman, again, that Tifa couldn’t remember the name of. She tried to see her through squinted eyes, but the lights were too bright and the red light of the camera was thrashing in leather whips around her neck. She felt like her entire body was burning up, and couldn’t understand why she’d feel so cold when, obviously, she was on fire. The red light. She turned away but the woman was also wearing red. Red lipsticks. Red fingernails. God, did she have horrible fingernails. It was fire all over. Like that time…

 The fire that Cloud claimed he’d seen, when he hadn’t. When he hadn’t even been there. It was just that SOLDIER Zack all along and Tifa should have told him sooner. Maybe. She didn’t know if he’d been built, like Sephiroth said. She didn’t know if her memories were fake too. Everything? Sephiroth said so. She wondered if they had created Cloud after all. If they had stuffed her brain with pieces of memories about him, the way they’d put one in Cloud’s head. Making him think that… that he’d been there, in the fire, five years ago in the place of the other man. But then, maybe, her memories were fake and his were real. Maybe she had told him the truth and it wasn’t the truth after all. Maybe she was burning now because she had failed to save him.

Tifa coughed and tasted blood in her mouth. She’d bitten down on the inside of it.

 “These are the ones who brought his madness into the world.” The woman was saying, and Tifa looked at her only to realize that she’d been looking at her the whole time.

 “The hell is this?”

 She knew that voice. It was Barret’s. Barret’s voice always sounded like the dusty bar, a cork of the wine bottle and gunpowder on the floor. It was coming from her left. She turned her head and realized that he’d been holding her upright. To her right was Vincent. His grip was firm but she didn’t feel a thing. Not that she could tell. She couldn’t even tell if she was hot, or cold.

 “Barret…?”

“Shh, Tifa. You’re sick. Burnin’ up. And they… is that a freakin’ camera?!”

 His voice was too loud. Tifa closed her eyes but had to open them again because the darkness made the world shake more, bubbling over the top like bad beer, and she couldn’t tell where she was standing. She turned her head to the right.

 “I’m… sick?”

 “You passed out.” Vincent was always so succinct. To the point. Tifa stared at him and imagined herself asking, where is Cloud, and he might frown – in his grinding voice, he might say – _who is Cloud?_

“Yes, it’s a camera.” The woman was sighing now. “We will be broadcasting your miserable deaths live on national television.” She said that so that only they would hear, not the cameraman. Her lips twisted into a smile. Her red lips. “They’ll never admit it, but everyone loves this stuff! We’ll start with the girl.”

 She was looking at Tifa, and Tifa wondered why her eyes weren’t red. They were blue. No, the wrong color. Blue was for someone else. Blue was for the sky that was stolen from them.

 “Hey!” Barret stepped forward, but he forgot that he was grabbing her arm and she jerked forward with him. She almost fell down, but Vincent held her back. “If you’ve gotta do it… do me first!”

 The woman was laughing. What was it that Barret had said? Tifa tried to remember but the words were all blurry like looking through a rain-soaked window. Hell, the world was blurry like that.

 “Camera, this way! Make sure you get this, the audience just eats up tearful goodbyes!”

 There were shouting. Yelling. Too much noise, too much movement at once and the world jingled and sprawled like little pearls of a broken necklace. The next thing she knew, she was inside the rusty iron room, and they were closing the door. The noise. But then the door clicked shut, the lock made a grunt and everything went quiet.

 And the silence slapped her, hard. When she sucked in a fast breath and breathed out long and slow, she remembered some things.

 First, Scarlet. That was the woman’s name. The Head of the Shinra Weapons Development.

 Second, apparently they – the AVALANCHE – were being blamed for setting Sephiroth free and being executed for it. Also, they were filming this on camera.

 Third. Tifa was the first victim and this was a gas chamber.

 Fourth, was a memory of a sunny afternoon when she was five, one of the first memories she had, and staring at a boy across the playground who was building a sand castle by himself. Tifa remembered thinking –his hair is so light and yellow and pretty. She wanted to go over there and build pretty castles with him, make a little flag with the orange leaves falling from the trees, but her mother had stopped her. _Don’t play with him, Tifa._

 And she’d thought that was because he was, in fact, an angel.

 Time passed. Cloud and Tifa, they had seen lots of fall foliages. They’d played in them, raked them together only to splash them like water, they’d picked up the prettiest ones and stuck them in their books. Then Tifa saw a whole lot more, on her own, and sometimes her thoughts would drift to him. She’d come to realize that Cloud was no angel. He wasn’t perfect. Sometimes he was sly and annoying, other times he was just plain dumb. But she still loved him like nothing else in the world. As a friend, as a family, as something too bright to look at, straight. He was her entire world for a long time, and when she grew up and her world got larger, he was still a small kingdom inside her heart. And he never knew.

 “I never got to tell you,” she muttered under her breath.

 So maybe, this was all an illusion. Maybe Cloud was made up, she didn’t know. All she knew was, thinking about how she might not see him again hurt her like nothing else in the world, too. It almost hurt to breathe. To cry. So she didn’t care what they did, what they could do. They couldn’t have fabricated this hurt. This raw feeling that left her bleeding and the blood just wouldn’t stop. And that was how. That was how Tifa knew that Cloud was real.

 Too bad she couldn’t tell him, though. There was no one to hear it and soon there would be no one to tell him.

 The gas settled in the room subtly, seeping through the cracks between air particles, quietly hunting.

 Tifa quickly scanned the room for an exit. There had to be a way somehow – because it was the last thing she remembered. She remembered that she was a fighter. She was not some girl who gave up everything when, well, her world was on fire. She had lived through Nibelheim and although she did have doubts, she was going to live through this time. Make it without him. Because somebody had to remember him.

Tifa found the door at the back. It was locked. She pulled with everything she had, and something cracked somewhere but the door still wouldn’t open. The slow spread of the gas was becoming panic and her grip was getting looser. Her legs started to give way, but she stood up again because all she knew was she had to live. Live through this. Her vision was wobbling like she was drunk and there were red, yellow, white, black dots in the world and they moved too much. Tifa was still gripping the handle but her hand felt detached to her body…

 And the door opened.

 Tifa couldn’t remember much after that. She saw a face, a sharp face but his eyes were warm. He had black hair and hazel eyes. He was wearing a dark blue business suit and Tifa remembered thinking it looked like he worked here – for Shinra – but then he held out his hands and she fell into them, consciousness slipping away like a forgotten dream.

-

 The room was empty. One minute, Red-lipstick was laughing her head off and the next minute she was running out of the room after everybody else. They left Yuffie and everybody else – her friends – in the room, alone. It had something to do with the emergency broadcast, which was still blaring at full volume, by the way. It didn’t do much for her already upset stomach. Yuffie crouched down, trying to keep breathing.

 “Emergency! Emergency! Weapon’s approaching! Attention all military personnel: take your positions!”

 Somebody was yelling. Yuffie was just trying to keep it all down. Because, well, gross. Her stomach was jumping up and down and it was really, really angry.

 “It won’t open…! Tifa, Tifa!”

 Barret was yelling and smacking the door. Yuffie’s eyes fluttered open – she remembered, suddenly, why she was standing here instead of on the comfy couch with her head buried in the cushion and pretending she was on a surface that didn’t _move_.

 “Tifa!” She yelped. Tifa was in the gas chamber. She stood up quickly and almost fell back down again, but she gripped whatever was beside her and stayed straight.

 “Okay, okay, time for Plan B. Run to the C deck.” It was the cat, Cait Sith. Barret looked down at him like he might eat the little thing alive.

 “The deck, you kiddin’? An’ leave Tifa there?”

 “Trust me, trust me. We gotta take a chance.”

 Barret was gonna yell _why the hell would I trust you_ , and Yuffie was gonna agree, but then he paused, looking at Cait Sith with a weird expression. There was something about the cat… that was different. His voice was different. He wasn’t bobbing up and down like usual, the annoying little brat he was. Right now he was perched on Nanaki, looking solemn and serious.

 And she didn’t know why, but she trusted him. She must be mad.

 “Well…” Barret looked round at them awkwardly, confused. It looked like he was beginning to trust the little traitor again too. “Whatya think?”

 “I think we do what we have to do.” A voice suddenly boomed beside her. Yuffie jumped. It wasn’t so much as a _boom_ , just a deep, really deep grind that reminded her of coral oceans. Apparently that thing she was holding onto was Vincent. He hadn’t even twitched even though Yuffie was grabbing him like her life depended on it.

 “What… does _that_ mean?” Cid narrowed his eyes.

 “We can’t open the door here.” Vincent said. “So we will get out of here.” He had this way of simplifying stuff.

 “I won’t leave Tifa, I promise.” Cait Sith was now saying. Vincent looked at the cat and Yuffie swore that she saw something pass between them. She almost demanded to know what the hell was going on, but everybody was moving and there was no time. Yuffie took one step forward and almost fell flat on her face. Vincent grabbed her just at the last second. Normally, Yuffie reasoned, she would never lean on someone like that. She was a proud Wutai, for god’s sakes, but now she was on a moving surface and she just couldn’t… it wasn’t normal. So she let Vincent carry most of her weight and just trudged along. They met little to no resistance along the empty hallway. The airship shook badly from time to time, because they were fighting a monster called WEAPON and everybody was down at the main deck where they controlled the guns and sorts. They ran some more, down the frighteningly bare hallways, and someone closed the door behind them. Vincent let go of Yuffie and she fell back down on… something soft. Yuffie looked up and it was that couch-room again. Only there was something else, too. Cid was doing some mechanical thing and there was a small board of buttons and controls she hadn’t noticed before. Also, there was Tifa.

 “Hey, Tifa! You’re alive!” Yuffie yelped, waving her hand. She wanted to go over by Tifa’s side, but didn’t dare move. Tifa gave her a weak smile. She was leaning on the couch like Yuffie, opposite from her.

 “So, Cid, can you do it?” Cait Sith asked. Cid grumbled something beneath the board, but then his eyes lit up like he’d found a Materia.

 “Ha! I’ve got it!”

 “Got what?” Yuffie asked, shushing her stomach. Vincent glanced down at her. Yuffie glared back because she was _not_ scared of his crimson eyes anymore. Or – she never was. Nuh-uh.

 “What?” She snarled dangerously. “Got a problem, Vince?”

 Vincent’s eyebrow quirked up at that. Eventually he looked away.

 “We’re gettin’ ourselves a ship, that’s what!” Cid exclaimed victoriously from where he was crouching. “She disconnects.”

 “Huh?” Yuffie frowned.

 “The ship has two parts. They’re connected now, but the connection can be severed and since everybody is at the main deck now… we’ll have half of the ship to ourselves.” Cid explained. At least _he_ was having fun.

 “Okay.”

 Yuffie murmured, and buried her head in the cushion again. For the next thirty minutes she tried not to think about how the moving surface was breaking in two and she was going to be on a smaller moving surface.

 “Welcome to my airship – the Highwind!” Cid was glowing. Yuffie’s thoughts were distant – she vaguely thought about how lame it was to name a ship after yourself. Then she imagined conquering a Materia Mine. Discovering it, naming it, maybe the _Yuffie Mine._

 The ship rumbled like a hungry beast. Yuffie buried herself deeper into the cushion, and tried very hard to ignore the savages down in her stomach that wanted to eat her alive. Someone was speaking, and Yuffie tuned her ear into that to distract herself. Unfortunately, it wasn’t very cheerful.

 “Meteor is coming, and Weapon is on the rampage…” It was Tifa. Her voice was laden heavy with depression. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do… What we’re supposed to do.”

 Oh, very optimistic, Tifa. Yuffie sighed but didn’t speak. Nanaki’s soft voice followed.

 “You think we aren’t strong enough without Cloud?”

 And the name, it hit her almost physically, like a poisoned spear. Yuffie flinched.

 “And that we can’t save the Planet alone?” Nanaki added. His voice was low, gentle but a little chastising too. Tifa didn’t say anything.

 “Get a hold of yourself, Tifa!” Barret said. “C’mon, let’s think about this! No way we can get offa this train we’re on!”

 And he had a point. There was nothing they could do about it, except maybe running away to an uninhabited island in the middle of nowhere. Even that wasn’t an option, though. When the world ended… everything ended. It was depressing, alright. Yuffie stuck her head up carefully and found everyone looking at everywhere but each other. Vincent was staring at his feet with his arms crossed and leaning against the glass like usual. Barret was fiddling with his gun-arm, and Cid looked busy over some buttons on the control panel. But he was pressing random ones over and over again.

 “If Cloud were here…” Tifa murmured. She didn’t finish that sentence, and everyone just pretended they hadn’t heard it. Yuffie didn’t say anything either. But her thoughts drifted there. She remembered Cloud. His eyes used to be the color of the purest Water Materia.

 If he were here. He would stand there, brood over some dark thoughts and decide on  something that Yuffie hadn’t even realized was a problem yet. Then he would tell them, simple as that. He was depressed, depressing – gloomy, stoic, never smiled. He was arrogant sometimes, never sure of himself, always doubting everything… but always going on. He’d looked tired all the time. He’d blank out in the middle of a conversation. He’d cock his head and raise his eyebrow when Yuffie was being a jerk, but never said anything. He would let her cling to his back like a little kid. He looked after people. He was kind, in his own way.

 Maybe he was dead, maybe he wasn’t, but he wasn’t here. There was a big, empty hole where he used to stand.

 And she missed him like hell.

 


	28. Secret

  1. 27\. Secret



 

_“You’re gone, gone, gone away I watched you disappear_

_All that’s left is the ghost of you_

_Now we’re torn, torn, torn apart there’s nothing we can do_

_Just let me go we’ll meet again soon_

_Now wait, wait, wait for me please hang around_

_I’ll see you when I fall asleep.”_

From _Little Talks_ by _Of Monsters and Men_

\- L.

 Tifa was going to find Cloud, if it was the last thing she did.

 She knew what the others were thinking. She read it in their eyes, whenever she started speaking about possible leads; maybe Cloud could have gone… maybe the Lifestream… maybe Sephiroth…. They would listen to her but their eyes were strained, pained. She wondered what it was that they were not telling her. Some definite proof that Cloud was dead? But none of them told her and Tifa didn’t ask. She thought maybe she was afraid to find out the truth. As far as she knew, she was going to find Cloud, right to the end of the world.

Only it looked like the end of the would might happen sooner rather than later. They helped people when they could, they kept on living on the Highwind and wandered the world aimlessly, but Tifa was always looking for Cloud. Every town they visited, she went around asking about a boy with a spiky blond hair and bright blue eyes. She wasn’t sure if he’d still have his sword, but she included that anyway. No one had seen him but one woman at a bar in Sector 6 Plate. It was many years ago, though – she only remembered because a bunch of SOLDIERS had come into the bar that day and the blond boy was the only non-SOLDIER there, an infantryman, looking too small and young to be there. She said she remembered this one SOLDIER hanging out with the boy, a black-haired man who laughed easily. Tifa figured it must have been Zack. It would have been before Nibelheim.

 It was Cait Sith who brought up the Lifestream first. It was among the oddities that the world had to deal with after the Incident. Lifestream, which usually remained deep under the earth, were bursting out here and there. It reeked Mako, and many people were dying of Mako poisoning. Considering everything that was going on, though, the news only barely made the paper. Cait Sith was scanning the newspaper and read it out loud, shaking his head. Tifa hadn’t thought much of it then, but something about the whole thing kept nagging her. The more she looked for Cloud, the more hopeless she got, but her thoughts kept returning to the Lifestream. Then they heard of a Lifestream burst in a small town called Mideel.

 “So you sayin’…” Barret frowned.

 “I’m saying it could be Cloud,” Tifa said, trying not to hope too much.

 She wished that could say that she _knew_ , somehow, that Cloud was in that town. That she was connected to his heart somehow, as cliché and disgustingly sweet that sounded, that she knew because he’d been her world and she just – knew. Like fairytale magic. But the thing was, there was no magic and it was just the adrenaline pumping through her blood from many sleepless nights and burning anxiety making her heart beat faster. Barret was looking at her worriedly now.

 “Look, Tifa, I ain’t arguing.” He leaned forward, squeezing her shoulder. They were gathered around the deck like always. Cid was behind the controls and not saying a word. She could tell he was worried, too. Barret continued.

 “But you gotta rest. We’ll go when this thing is wrapped up, okay?”

 Tifa tried to remember what this _thing_ was, but couldn’t.

 “I’m fine. I just… feel like it’d be too late, you know?”

 “Hey, we want to find Cloud as much as you do,” Cid opened his mouth. “It’s just… we ain’t even sure yet. All we know is that there was a Lifestream burst in Mideel, and a person popped through it.”

 “I just…” Tifa thought again how she’d like to say that she _just knew_. Like a gut feeling, like a sixth sense, like the proof of their destiny that she had always been looking for. “I just know,” she lied. Everyone was silent for a while.

“How long does it take to go there, ol’ man?” Yuffie asked Cid.

 “I ain’t that old, midget,” Cid grunted, chewing on a toothpick. “‘Bout two days, maybe.”

 “Well.” Yuffie arched her eyebrows. “You better start gearing up, then!”

 Cid looked like he wanted to argue for a second, but then muttered _what the hell_ and plopped himself in the chair that he liked to call the Captain Chair. The engines started whirring.

 Tifa looked down at a soft prod at her legs. Nanaki was looking up at her.

 “You know, Tifa. I hope we find Cloud. I really do. But even if it _is_ Cloud that came out of the Lifestream…” He paused, didn’t finish that sentence, but Tifa nodded.

 “I just want to see him again.” She said.

 She knew, though, that nobody had ever just _come back_ from the Lifestream before. Unprocessed, raw Mako in its purest form ran through the Lifestream. Prolonged exposure to even the purified Mako in the reactors caused poisoning. All kinds of things happened, nothing predictable. Some people laughed themselves to death, some lost sight and smell and speech, some lost their heads altogether.

 Tifa imagined what it would be like. To have found Cloud, finally, and find him blind, deaf, ill. What if… what if he didn’t recognize her? She just wanted to feel okay again. She was so tired. The Highwind beeped and whirred in her now-familiar pattern, Yuffie excused herself to the bunks, and Tifa found herself drifting into sleep. At the blurry edge between dream and reality, she saw Vincent leaning against the window and somehow that morphed into Cloud’s rumpled form, quietly looking at her with his bright blue eyes. She wanted to tell him something but forgot as soon as she opened her mouth and then the days without sleep finally overtook her.

\- L.

 Tifa had always thought that Nibelheim was a backwater town, but it was a city compared to what she was seeing in Mideel.

 It was hard to distinguish between trees and other things. The sun was clear and strong, and it fell on every surface that wasn’t hidden by thick canopy of leaves. Houses made of wood were in those shades. Grass was dry and browning. Dirt clouds occasionally swept up. Humid air closed around their throats as soon as they stepped off the Highwind, a little distance away from the village so not to attract unnecessary attention.

 “Damn, it’s hot here.” Barret said, astonished, as he shuffled off his coat. Yuffie drank in the humid, scorched air. “It reminds me of home,” she said.

 They walked through the tangled mess of trees and to the village. Tifa tried to find a signpost that said _Mideel_ , but couldn’t find any. There was a balding old man sitting under a shade, on a stump of wood and fanning himself with a thin book. She walked over to him.

 “Excuse me, sir…”

 The old man looked up at her. He squinted as if to see through the heat wave, and they twinkled mischievously.

 “Ahoy, ain’t you a beauty.”

 Yuffie giggled behind her. Tifa smiled politely.

 “So, this is… Mideel?”

 “Damn right it is, but who are _you_? No one comes to our little corner of the world ‘cept the people who live here. And not even them, sometimes.”

 “We, uh…” Tifa faltered, not knowing how to introduce themselves.

 “We’re anthropologists.” Cid said unexpectedly. “Anthropologizing ‘bout… small villages, y’know?”

 Barret looked at Cid strangely. Cid shrugged.

 “Oh, is that so?” The old man quirked up his eyebrows. “Well, that’s new… whatcha gonna write about small villages?”

 Cid opened his mouth, closed it again.

 “Anything, you know. It doesn’t… we haven’t really decided yet.” Tifa said quickly. “Anyway, I heard that there was a Lifestream incident a little while ago?”

 Waiting for the man to reply, the short moment as raw sunlight attacked her back and sweat trickled over her face, it was one of the most agonizing moment of her life. Her heart beat faster and faster until she could hear the heartbeats over all the noise in her head – yelling, hoping, praying, crying.

 “Well,” the old man said slowly. “Yeah, there was.”

 Tifa’s heart almost broke from the intense beating. She was now sure that her body temperature must be higher than the air around her.

 Then the man said, squinting and shrugging his shoulder,

 “A damn cat popped through it. Why?”

 Tifa’s heart went silent for a minute. She could feel the heat again, and, damn it was hot. It was too hot. She felt like crying. Because it was so hot, her tears would surely be salty like the ocean.

\- L.

 “Let’s ask the villagers, okay?” Yuffie consoled. Tifa didn’t really see the point. She opened her mouth to tell Yuffie, but saw her expression and changed her mind. “Yeah,” she said. “I’ll go ask.”

 Tifa turned and walked along the deep green shadows and through the insects singing. The back alley, mostly just a whole lot of dirt and thick leaves dripping and staining the ground, led to some more wooden houses that could have been homes or shops. Most people Tifa saw were elderly. She half-heartedly asked a few about a boy with the blond spikes. Some didn’t understand her at all.

 “I told the little cat to watch out for her milk.”

 An old lady smiled at Tifa, her lips parting and the few remaining teeth showing. Tifa smiled back politely. It wasn’t an answer to her question at all. Her insides were already scorched raw, from the heat and also something else.

She was feeling strangely detached from herself ever since the old man had told her about the cat. She wanted to remain in that blistering oblivion as long as possible. Maybe forever; because she knew what was waiting beyond it.

 A dog approached her and started to sniff. It might have been a handsome dog once, with short black fur smooth like velvet, but it looked weary and charred from the merciless sun. Tifa squatted down in front of the animal. She’d always liked dogs – though, if she had to say, Cloud was more like a cat than a dog. Tifa liked dogs for their consistency.

 “What’s the matter?” Tifa muttered. “Are you all alone?”

 The dog whined. Tifa extended a careful hand, rubbed its head and the dob leaned into the touch.

 “You got lost, didn’t you?” Tifa kept talking. She thought maybe the dog understood. It started wagging its tail. “Separated from someone you love…? Silly thing.”

 Behind her, two men were talking. Tifa caught the drift of their conversation.

 “ … guess it’s been about a week now since he washed up here on the shore…”

 “I dunno, I say the whole thing feels unlucky.”

 “It _is_ the end of the world.”

 “The weirdest thing was his eyes… I’ve seen blue eyes, but…”

 Tifa jumped up so fast that she almost stumbled and fell over the dog. It barked, startled. The two men looked over at her, hearing the bark.

 “E… excuse me,” Tifa sputtered, words spilling out faster than she could pronounce. “that… that person you were just talking about…?”

 “Miss, are you okay?” The first man frowned.

“I’m okay.” She managed in a calm enough voice. “So, a man washed up… on the shore, huh?” She asked, casually. The second man nodded. He wasn’t as old as the other people she’d seen so far.

 “Yeah. A villager found him a little ways down the coast… it was about a week ago, I think?” He directed the last part to his friend. The first man nodded vigorously. Tifa imagined it must have been an exciting thing in a town that rarely had a new day.

 “Yes, it was exactly a week ago. Poor kid… he looked like he’d drifted from somewhere pretty far away.”

 “And this boy… how did he look like?” Tifa asked carefully. The two men exchanged glances.

 “He had blond hair. And blue eyes.” The first man offered.

 “Not too tall… and,” the second man considered. “His clothes were all torn up and ragged… but he _was_ carrying a sword.”

 “Really big, too, huh?” The first man said. The second man nodded.

 “Cloud, it must be Cloud.” She was muttering before she realized and running before she heard the two men call after her. There was almost no wind, trapped between the humidity, but air crashed into her face as she made her way back to the entrance of the town. There she found everyone else, exactly as she left them. Barret looked startled when he spotted her.

 “Tifa! What’s wrong?”

 “I…” Tifa tried to speak before she caught her breath, but the words leaked away in huffs of short breaths. _I found him, I found him._

She never did manage to get those words out of her, but her eyes must have told them everything else. While she was hunched over and gasping, she heard Cid mutter and laugh, Yuffie jumping up, Nanaki asking _where?_ And before Tifa realized that she had been so thrown that she’d forgotten to ask where he was _now_ , Barret was asking the old man by the tree, about a stranger that he’d seen lately – she watched all of this over the noise of her own ragged breathing that sounded exaggerated to her. Her head was spinning fast and then she heard the old man’s answer.

 “Why, yes, that charming young man… He’s now at the clinic.”

\- L.

 She did not understand the doctor’s words at first. The words were heard, but disconnected somehow.

Falling apart before they reached her mind. The doctor was a young woman, younger than most people in the village. She wore thin glasses and a whitish gown. She talked of Cloud as if he was not right there, sitting and staring.

 But he wasn’t.

 “Mako poisoning, quite an advanced case.” The doctor repeated the words. Tifa still felt numb. There was an old mechanical fan in the room, generating a thin string of artificial wind. The dark green curtain shifted slightly. Cloud’s eyes were blue, like always, the Mako tainting it green around the edges. When nobody spoke, or objected to her words, the doctor cleared her throat again.

 “It appears this young man’s been exposed to a high level of Mako energy for a protracted period of time. He probably has no idea who he is, or where he is right now… he’s here, but,” but. “Really miles away from us.”

 The doctor looked sympathetic, even pained, but she did not really understand, Tifa thought. Would it have been easier to find him dead? It was a treacherous thought. She did not have the strength to fight it back. Instead it crawled to the corner of her mind, sat and watched like a cockroach. All the while Cloud sat still, breath slow but steady. His gaze wandered sometimes but it came back to the same thing – the sky beyond the window, through the green curtain. A brilliant blue light.

 Tifa touched his shoulder. She was careful. She did not even breathe. Cloud didn’t seem to feel it, though. Only blinked up at the sky.

 “Damn, that’s evil.” Cid finally said, breaking the silence that was starting to get too heavy. A fly buzzed against the wrong side of the window, trying to reach the other side. The electric fan stuttered.

 “Is he alright, I mean –” Barret ran a hand over his face, suddenly looking exhausted. “Will he heal?”

 “I…” the doctor glanced at Tifa. She felt her gaze without seeing it. Tifa wondered what her face might look like. If the emotions were slipping through the cracks or if it was as numb as she felt.

 “I can’t be sure,” the doctor evaded. “Maybe.”

 “Or maybe not.” Yuffie said, narrowing her eyes. “Tell us how it really is.” It was a voice she usually reserved for a fight. Tifa imagined Yuffie taking a breath, readying for a battle she thought she’d lose.

 “Well as I said, he’s got Mako poisoning. I’ve never seen a case this bad. No normal human could have survived it.”

 “He’s a SOLDIER.” Yuffie said. The doctor nodded.

 “I guessed as much, from his clothes and – the eyes.”

 “But,” Yuffie said. “But he’s a SOLDIER. How can he have Mako poisoning?”

 “Even SOLDIERs are humans.” the doctor told her simply. “They have limits. What happened to him?”

 There was silence. Nobody really knew. A current of uneasiness in that silence, guilt, like it had been them who pushed him into a furious stream of green Mako – Tifa couldn’t really blame them for running when they did and saving her life, but she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of resentment. Irrational anger, fury without a name.

 “We don’t really know.” Cid settled. “We’ve been lookin’ for him since he’s gone missing.”

 “He must have fallen into the Lifestream.” Yuffie said. There was something in her voice, an obstinacy, a prelude of a fight. Her small face contorted in an intense emotion.

 “As I said,” Cid said slowly. “We don’t really know, Yuffie.”

 “Yes, we do.” She protested. “We saw what… how it blew up after and the Lifestream flushing out in all directions. Of course we know. We _have_ known, all this time.” Her glance quickly went to Tifa, and then away.

 “That’s a valid point.” Vincent said, as if from a shadow. Yuffie pushed her lips together in a tight line.

 “Exactly. Even Vincent agrees. And… and we left him there.” It was accusation. Tifa watched, a part of the group but also out of it; an observer. The echo of the resentment she’d felt – she realized that the feeling must be so much stronger for them. They were the ones who had left. The doctor didn’t say anything. Nobody said anything for a while.

 “Yeah,” Barret’s voice was a shadow of his usual bark. “Yeah, we did.”

 Tifa wondered if guilt, regret – if they were lessened when shared by so many. She guessed not. Maybe the collective guilt of many were stronger. Because you could not forget. Because you sacrificed one for many, as if it was a matter of mathematics. Two is bigger than one.

 “Don’t do this,” Tifa heard herself say. She was counting numbers in her head. “There’s nothing we could have done, right?” Five years since. Fifteen years since. How many nights? Too many to count. “So let’s not blame ourselves like this. It won’t help us and… it certainly won’t help Cloud.”

 “You’re right, Tifa.” Cid nodded. “Beating ourselves over what’s already happened… it won’t help anythin’.” He didn’t sound too convinced, though.

 Tifa just smiled. Seven songs, six petals, thirty-eight pearls minus one.

 But if there was something scarier than Cloud not waking up, it was him waking up, and they all knew it but didn’t speak it.

 The doctor talked a little more after that, about small towns and city hospitals, cleaner sheets and the heat – it didn’t really stay long enough in Tifa’s head to make sense. There was one other bed in this clinic. The doctor told them that they could stay until someone really needed the space.

 When they were alone, Tifa told them about her decision. They were unquestioningly accepting, and she might have been alarmed for that had she cared. Because it meant the secret she thought she had was not really a secret at all.

 “I’ll stay, with Cloud. You have work to do.”

 “Yeah, that’s probably best,” Barret said. “For Cloud… an’ for you. We’ll come back again an’ check on ya.”

 “Hang in there, Tifa. Hope he gets better soon.” Cid told her. There was a grain of truth there, she thought. If he’d been alive – alive in the way it mattered – there would have been other talks, much more dangerous and painful. They were relieved, at least a little bit, even if they might not admit it to themselves.

 Tifa nodded anyway, and thought she smiled. When they had all said their farewells and left, the room was empty. The sound of the electric fan was raw in her ears. Cloud watched the sky turn a shade darker and Tifa watched her friend. She tried to remember when he wasn’t – her friend – but it’d been such a long time ago.


	29. Interlude I

Interlude.

Seven Songs, Six Petals, Thirty-Eight Pearls Minus One

 

_“And we were only kids, and our time couldn’t end_

_And how tall did we stand, with the world in my hands_

_And we were only kids, and we were best of friends_

_And we hoped for the best, and let go of the rest.”_

From _Shadows and Regrets_ by _Yellowcard_

\- L.

 Cloud wasn’t her only friend, but she was _his_ only friend. The irony had escaped her at the time; she’d never really stopped to consider how unfair it was.

 It wasn’t like she hadn’t known, either. She’d watch how the village women scurried away from Cloud’s mother and whispered amongst themselves. She didn’t understand it, but she knew it anyway; how other kids would not talk to him, how some boys would kick dirt over his carefully constructed sand castles and bring them tumbling apart (He did not fight, then, just watched with those big blue eyes). It wasn’t like their friendship, her easy acceptance and his guarded smile, was a secret, either. And also the irony of that had been lost to them at the time.

\- L.

Seven songs.

Before her mother died, in the short memory she had of her, she was always smiling. That wasn’t true. Her mother – like any mother – would have yelled and sighed and scolded. Had she lived long enough, eventually Tifa might have remembered those as well.

 Her mother died three days after her eighth birthday, a strange sickness that made her hair brittle like sand castles. She had been too stunned to cry then. The tears came a day later, in waves. As time passed she forgot all the yelling, sighs, scolding. Only the smiling face remained.

 When she was alive, before she got too sick to get out of bed, Tifa’s mother let Cloud into her house. Tifa knew that her father disapproved; as young as she was, she knew this almost by instinct. She felt, rather than saw, the disapproving gaze that sometimes lingered on the too-still glass of a boy when he sat down at their table for dinner. Tifa’s mother was always kind, only too kind. It was another way of discrimination, Tifa would reflect later. Cloud was either avoided or pitied. Tifa didn’t know why. All she knew was that it made her uncomfortable, the way the adults – and by extension, the kids – would look at him like he wasn’t one of them.

 “It’s ‘cause I’m not,” Cloud said, when she told him what she’d been thinking about. They were lying on the endless field of grass somewhere beneath the mountain, looking up at the sky. It was a gray day, like someone had spilled the wrong color watercolor that morning.

 “Why?” Tifa asked. “You live here.”

 “Well, not always. We moved here.” Cloud was making something with his hands. Tifa tried to watch his fingers moving in and out of the loops of the glass blades and a foxtail and a lean violet flower, but her neck hurt. She turned her head back to the sky.

 “Yeah, but that was when you were really small. You live here now,” she said, stubbornly.

 “I know I do.” She could hear the silent laughter in his voice. She thought that he might have been mocking her, but couldn’t gather enough energy to get angry. Tifa was happy right here, lying still as the occasional gray wind brushed her cheeks and the overgrown grass tickled her bare arms and ankles. Well, almost.

 “I don’t know why daddy doesn’t like you so much. I don’t know why Neve Hanson bullies you.” She tried again. She felt Cloud shift a little beside her. The grass blades sighed as another gush of wind brushed past them, and it sounded like Cloud was sighing. He was one year older than her. Sometimes it felt like more.

 “I don’t have a father,” Cloud said.

 “You can’t not have a father, you just don’t know him.” Tifa said, wisely. Cloud shrugged. The wind shifted. It blew against her hair.

 “Same thing, here.”

 “Is that bad?” Tifa didn’t understand. For a moment all she saw was dark brown locks of messy hair over her eyes. She tried to sweep them off.

 “I guess.” Cloud didn’t sound too sad. “I guess that’s why your father doesn’t like me so much.”

 “Well. I don’t think it’s fair.” Tifa felt defiant, maybe even a little brave. She was still struggling with her hair, though, and some got into her mouth. Cloud laughed.

 “You look funny. Like a tentacle monster.”

 “No, I don’t.” Tifa said, but she was laughing too. Eventually Cloud sat up and helped her brush the rest of her hair off. The wind was getting stronger. Tifa sat up too. She held her hair in a fist, wishing she’d brought a string to tie it with.

 “Here,” Cloud handed her a string made of nimble glass blades, a foxtail to weave it together, and a little violet flower at the end.

 “It’s so pretty.” Tifa said, eyes wide. She admired the things Cloud could do with his hands, so quick and clever. “Can you tie my hair?”

Cloud took her hair, made a knot with the string he’d made. Tifa grinned. “Thanks. I’ll wear it to school tomorrow.” Cloud frowned at that. Tifa knew what he was thinking. “I won’t tell anyone that you made it,” she said, because Cloud preferred it that way. If she had her way she would be telling everybody.

 “Good.” Cloud nodded, finally smiling.

 “So why is Neve Hanson so mean to you?”

The other day, he’d torn up Cloud’s book, for no good reason. Tifa was pretty sure that the teacher had seen it, but she hadn’t done anything; just passed them by. Tifa had run to him, from across the hallway, but by the time she got there Neve was already gone and Cloud had already picked up the pieces. Gathered them up thrown them into the bin.

 “Because,” Cloud rolled his eyes. A drop of water, from the discolored sky, and it landed right beneath his eyes. Cloud blinked and it fell like a teardrop. It was absurd, though. Cloud didn’t cry. All the time she’d known him, she’d never seen him cry. “Because he’s a cabbage-headed pig.”

 Tifa burst out laughing. After a while Cloud joined her too. More raindrops started to fall and they got up quickly. Tifa’s mother wouldn’t like her running around wet; especially when she was meant to be practicing the piano and not sneaking around outside. The thought of practicing the piano made her sigh.

 “I’m no good at music. I wish my mom would stop trying.”

 “I love the piano. I wish I had one.” Cloud said, as an answer. It made Tifa kind of embarrassed, kind of guilty, but also warm. Sometimes Cloud stayed with her while she practiced. Sometimes his fingers played on the keys, white and black. The sounds were always clearer when Cloud played, Tifa thought.

 “You can use mine, you know. Whenever you want.” Tifa said. Cloud smiled. Tifa wanted more of that smile. “I’d give it to you already, but it’s too big to take.”

 “Yeah, and my room is so small. It won’t fit anyway.” Cloud said. They were walking down the hill as raindrops started to come in longer strides, becoming a rainfall.

 “I’m supposed to be practicing right now.” Tifa said, as if she had just remembered. Cloud raised his eyebrows. “Come on, nobody will see us if we go through the window.” She tugged Cloud along. “I’m learning a new song. It’s called the Song of Summer.”

 “Sounds nice.” Cloud said. Tifa knew that he would sit with her on the piano stool, watch her fumble more than usual (she wasn’t so bad when she was alone), and learn the song much faster than her. One day, he would play it, and Tifa would say that she never knew it was such a beautiful song.

 “Race you to my window.” Tifa said started running. Cloud took a moment to catch up with her words and started late. Wind and raindrops slashed against her face. She suddenly remembered the flowers in her hair. She was afraid that it might fall off, so she had to take it off and hold it tight in her hand.

 Cloud learned the song, Song of Summer, and six other songs during Tifa’s piano practices. But no more after that. When Tifa was eight her mother died, her father didn’t make her practice piano anymore and sometimes Cloud would stare at the white cloth over the piano gathering dust, and Tifa would pretend not to have seen him looking. The white cloth looked too much like the white sheet over her dead mother’s face and she couldn’t bear to take it off. She was afraid that she would find a face beneath it instead of a piano, cold and blue.

\- L.

Six Petals.

Cloud started fighting when he was eleven, when Tifa was ten. He was surprisingly good, too. Surprising for everyone else but not Tifa; she would have guessed as much.

He was too small for his age, because he was always hungry. He didn’t like to hear it, but he looked so fragile, too, with his pretty eyes and too-white skin and the light golden hair that he wore in a ponytail now. But he fought like the devil, and Tifa couldn’t have told him to stop even if she wanted to. She always feared for him when he got into one of those fights, especially with boys twice as big as him, but it was also true that she’d rather see him fight and bleed than sit quietly and take whatever came.

 The first time it happened, Tifa was getting lunch. It was one of Neve Hanson’s loyal friends; he was saying something, Cloud said something back (she was too far away to hear), and soon the boy was throwing punches at Cloud, and Cloud was ducking every one like he was a forest animal. Kids were gathering to watch.

Cloud kept getting out of the way. The boy kept getting angry. The crowd cheered, yelled _Peter, what are you waiting for,_ and still no teachers came to stop the fight. Tifa started getting worried. Cloud was cornered, now, and Peter was grinning and huffing. The punch was coming fast and there was nowhere else to back out anymore.

 That was when Cloud hit him, square in the face and faster than the other boy’s punch. Peter fell backwards, brought down chairs and a table and someone’s lunch with him, and couldn’t get up for minutes. Cloud won that fight, but it was the beginning of a string of other fights, and there were many. For the next three years, there wasn’t a time when he was without a band-aid or a bruise or sometimes even a cast.

Tifa, in turn, became an expert at patching up small cuts and bruises, because Cloud didn’t have enough money to go to a doctor every time. Each time Tifa knew that she should be reprimanding him, telling him not to fight and hurt himself. She tried a few times; it didn’t work out so well, because Cloud would just nod all solemn-like, like he understood, and Tifa laughed because they both knew he didn’t. Most times Tifa told him that she was proud, that those bastards needed to be taught a lesson, that Neve Hanson’s nose was too high anyway.

A light knock on her window woke her from her sleep. Tifa sat up, shook the sleep off from her eyes. There was only one person who would be knocking on her window in the middle of the night. She got up and wrapped the blanket around herself; didn’t turn on the lights.

 It was January. The floor was cold on her bare feet. She walked in tiptoes to the window. She almost gasped too loudly when she saw the state he was in: his lips were blue, and he was dripping water all over. His hair fell flat and heavy across his forehead. There was a deep blue bruise over his right eyebrow. Tifa fumbled to unlock the window as quickly as she could.

 “What happened? Why are you dripping wet?” She whispered as Cloud climbed into the room. A gush of wind came in with him. Cloud looked miserably at the small puddle now forming beneath his feet.

 “Sorry ‘bout the carpet,” he said.

 “Don’t worry about the carpet, idiot.” She threw off her blanket and wrapped it around Cloud instead. Cloud shifted as if to protest, but Tifa shushed him. “I’ll get some towels and… and some dry clothes.”

 “I’m not gonna wear your clothes.” Cloud made a face. Tifa knew he was joking, trying to stop her worrying. It didn’t work. She scowled at the fake innocence on his face.

 “Not mine. I’m gonna steal some of my dad’s clothes.”

 Cloud murmured something, but Tifa ignored him. He held the blanket tighter together. He was rattling, like ice cubes knocking against each other in a glass, although he was trying hard not to.

 “Wait here,” Tifa said and snuck out of the room.

 When she came back with her dad’s old t-shirt, clean towels and the emergency med-kit, Cloud was still standing on the exact same spot. The carpet beneath his feet was dark with water spots. Tifa waited until he’d warmed up some before she started asking.

 “So, what happened?”

 Cloud pretended to look busy with the towel as he rubbed his hair. It fell messily over his shoulders. Cloud had told her that he was letting it grow to see if that will make it stick up less. So far, it wasn’t working so great. His hair still stuck out everywhere except for the part he tried to hold down in a ponytail.

 “Cloud,” Tifa sighed. Cloud finally finished with the towels and looked up through his fringes.

 “Do you have a string?” He asked.

 “I might, if you answer me.”

 “Alright. It’s nothing. There. Where is it?”

 Sometimes Cloud could be so annoying. Tifa knew, at some level, that Cloud was acting like this on purpose because he didn’t want her to worry. Which meant that it was something to worry about. She glared at him. Gave him the hair tie, though, because he did kind of look ridiculous like that.

 “I, uh, fell.” Cloud finally answered.

 “You _fell_?” Tifa narrowed her eyes.

 “Yes. Into the river.”

 “It’s January. In Nibelheim.” Tifa said slowly. Cloud made an attempt at looking incredulous.

 “I know, Tifa. I’m not an idiot. Although you seem to think…”

 “I mean, the river is frozen.” Tifa interrupted. Cloud looked like he might laugh, for the completely wrong reasons.

 “Oh, yeah. It was. I fell… hard. The wind – knocked me off balance.”

 “Must have been a strong wind.”

 “Yeah. Must have been,” Cloud said, with a straight face. Tifa tried not to laugh, especially when she was _trying_ to be annoyed. It didn’t work, though, as usual. She felt her face crumple in a laughter at the same time he twisted his lips in a grin.

 “Did this… wind have a name?” She asked.

 “It’s the wind, Tifa. Winds don’t have names.” Cloud was still looking serious. Admittedly, he did it much better than her. Tifa just rolled her eyes. Cloud squatted down in front of her, in a shirt much too big for him and still wrapped in a blanket.

 “Although,” Cloud said while Tifa squeezed out some salve from a tube. “I broke its nose after that, so I don’t think it’ll be trying that again.”

“So what were you… and the wind, fighting about?”

 “Some stupid thing.” Cloud shrugged. He winced as the cold salve touched the blue knot starting to swell.

 “It’s always stupid,” Tifa said.

 “He – I mean, _it_ –” (Tifa rolled her eyes) “Didn’t want to believe that there were flowers that could blossom in winter,” Cloud said.

 Tifa paused and looked at Cloud. She couldn’t believe boys would actually fight about something like that.

 “I can’t believe you would actually fight about something like that.”

 “He was looking for a reason.” Cloud said, indifferent. “He told me to prove it.”

 “Why’d you answer in the first place?”

 “I dunno.” Cloud said, but Tifa knew he did. She knew he was looking for it too; a reason to fight. She sighed.

 “So did you? Prove it?” She asked instead.

 “Oh yeah,” Cloud said. He raised his eyebrows. “Unfortunately they grow too close to the river.”

 And then, as if he’d just remembered, he pulled something out of his pants pocket. It was a small notebook that he always carried around with him. Tifa had no idea what he wrote down in it, he wouldn’t let her see. Now, though, it was completely soaked, so she would never know. He didn’t look too heartbroken about it. He flipped through it until he found something tucked between the pages. It was a tiny white flower; the flower he got pushed in the river for.

 “You picked a flower?” Tifa said. “While you were being pushed into the river?”

 “After.” Cloud said simply. “Look, this one has six petals. Normally they have five.”

 At that, Tifa tore her gaze from Cloud’s face and peered closer to the flower he was holding out. It really did; a smaller petal had squeezed itself out, hanging dangerously on the edge, trying to fit it.

 “Why did you…”

 “Because it has six petals.” Cloud said, and dropped the small flower on Tifa’s palm.

\- L.

Thirty-Eight Pearls Minus One.

If she was overjoyed by the unexpected gift from her father, if she showed it more than she usually would, then it was because of the breathless white. Thirty-eight pearls strung together by a thin line, which shone like it was glossed in silk, through the even heads of the pearls.

 “This looks expensive.” Tifa said. She carefully held the necklace to her chest. Her father looked at her with a silent smile. He had always been a quiet man, but he’d lost more words since her mother’s death.

 “Not too much. Anyway, you’re thirteen now. Almost a lady.” Her father told her. Tifa huffed.

 “I have been for more than half a year now.”

 “Yes, I know.” He smiled. “You’re graduating secondary school. You can wear this to the dance.”

 The big dance. Tifa’s face fell a little at the thought of it, but she struggled to keep the smile pasted. Her father didn’t notice.

 The dance. Everybody was talking about it these days. It had been that way as long as Tifa could remember. Only this time, it was _her_ turn to attend it.

 It wasn’t that Tifa didn’t look forward to it. She liked dancing, and the music, and the warmth and the laughter and the good food. It was just that Cloud wasn’t going to be there. He’d been invited, because everybody in school was, but he wasn’t going to go. Tifa knew it even before she asked.

 “Why the hell would I go?” Cloud’s pronunciation was a little distorted, because of the ice pack he was pressing against his cheek. They were sitting in the nurse’s room. The nurse was one of those that pitied, rather than hated. Cloud hated both sorts but at least the former didn’t throw a punch. The nurse had gone out to get more ice, and it was only Cloud and Tifa in the room.

 “Because…” Tifa tried to find a good reason. There really was none, though, except maybe the one she’d never tell him.

 “See? Exactly. I’m just glad it’s over.” Cloud shrugged and winced when the bruised cheek scratched against the ice pack. Tifa winced with him.

 “What do you mean over?” She asked.

 “School. It’s over. Since I’m not going to the dance… today’s my last day.”

 Cloud’s voice sounded so free when he said it, _my last day_ , that Tifa hated to ask, but she did anyway.

 “You’re not gonna… what about high school?”

 “It’s not mandatory, is it? Then, no.”

 “Well, what are you gonna do, then?”

 “I don’t know.” Cloud said vaguely. Tifa got the impression that he was avoiding something, but couldn’t ask. She was afraid.

 “Who was it this time?” She asked instead. Cloud made something like a snorting sound behind the ice pack.

 “I’m not gonna tell _you_.” He said, as if it was obvious. Tifa gave him an offended glare.

 “Why not?”

 “I don’t know, remember Perry Bill?” Cloud rolled his eyes.

 “Yeah, what about him? I just gave him a little…”

 “Let me tell you from experience, your kicks hurt. A lot.”

 Tifa considered this. She _had_ embarrassed Perry Bill in front of a lot of people that day. But she’d been so mad. Perry Bill had called in his five older cousins (two of whom were preparing to join SOLDIER), and Cloud had ended up with broken fingers and ribs. And if that wasn’t cowardly, she didn’t know what was.

 “So what? He was a mean bag of potatoes. He deserved it.”

 “I know, but…” Cloud seemed to be studying Tifa’s face. He lowered his ice a little bit. His eyes were so blue, so piercing. “Don’t do that again, Tifa.”

 “They’re not gonna do anything to me.” Tifa said, more quietly. Then she added, “Don’t worry about me.” Because it was true that, as absurd it was, Cloud spent more time worrying about Tifa than about himself. As if she was the one who constantly had a bruise or a cut like decorations of a soldier.

 “I’m not worried.” Cloud said, just as softly. A silence settled between them.

 Then she was staring at his profile, the lost expression on his face and the eyes that were seeing something beyond the gray painted walls, and maybe that was why she said it out loud. She hadn’t meant to; he just looked so lost to this world, she felt like getting lost with him.

 “It’s just that my dad, he bought me a necklace. To wear to the dance. It… it’s pretty.”

 “Hmm?” Cloud looked up. Tifa felt herself blush a little. It was stupid that she brought it up.

 “Nothing.” She muttered just as the nurse came in with more ice packs.

\- L.

 It wasn’t like she didn’t have any other friends beside Cloud, because she did. Tifa still spent a lot of her time with Cloud, though. And although her other friends didn’t particularly try to be friends with Cloud, they were okay with him. They accepted their friendship, in such a way that Cloud’s name never came up in their conversations. Tifa sometimes felt ashamed that the most they could do to accept him was pretend he didn’t exist. She felt ashamed because she wasn’t brave enough to change that. It was the same way with Cloud. Tifa never mentioned her other friends in front of him. It was like she had two separate lives. They didn’t clash because they never came together in the first place.

 Not all the kids were content with pretending that Cloud didn’t exist, though. Bored kids, looking for a taunt or a fight. As Cloud got too fierce for some of them to pick at (not unless they were in groups of more than five), the taunt slowly moved on to Tifa, too. She was the mayor’s daughter, though. Nobody really dared to spit at her face, but she knew what was going on behind her back sometimes. There was nothing she could do about it. She didn’t care much as long as they stayed words.

 Not always, though.

 When she heard that her stolen necklace had been found, scattered everywhere in the field, she thought she might know who had done it. There was no proof, though, and she had to endure Perry Bill kindly telling her how sorry he was that her necklace had been broken like that. _Who could have done such a thing? It was a piece of beauty._

 Tifa thought of Cloud and refrained from kicking him hard in the shins again. He ran away before she could, in any case.

 The dance turned out to be okay, but no more than that. Johnny asked her to go with him and she didn’t have a reason to turn him down. She wore the light blue dress that she only wore on special occasions. Cloud had seen it once or twice, told her it was the color of a waterfall. Which was also the color of his eyes, but she didn’t tell him that.

 The food was excellent and the musicians were brilliant, but the heels hurt her feet like blades and the waterfall blue looked horribly wrong next to Johnny’s flaming red hair. Also, Cloud had asked her to meet at their usual spot, by the dry well, as soon as she was finished. The last reason was probably the one that made her most anxious. She got out as quickly as she could, ran through the woods until her abused feet couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t help a grin when her eyes met his, and he smiled back.

 And the stars, the night, December in the air. SOLDIER and Sephiroth and unspoken dreams. The promise. Tifa felt hollow. Like her soul had suddenly left her to join the Milky Way up above. She tried to cover it with a smile, a joke, something. The thought of him leaving was terrifying. She thought of all the young men who left to join SOLDIER and never returned. But Cloud would be different, she desperately reasoned.

 “All right, I promise.”  
 A shooting star shot across the sky. She wished it to be some kind of a sign, that someone high up there was listening to her. That she was not alone.

 That Cloud wouldn’t ever be alone.

 “Oh, I almost forgot to ask,” Cloud said, straightening up. Tifa swallowed the tears and faked a smile as best as she could.

 “What?”

 “How many pearls were in your necklace?”

 “What?” Tifa asked again, momentarily thrown off, the tear momentarily forgotten. Cloud shrugged like it was the most natural question to ask.

 “How many pearls in your necklace? Did you count them?”

 “Yeah… thirty eight. Why?”

 “Damn,” Cloud muttered. He looked up at the sky and blinked. Tifa watched him like a dream. Cloud shoved a hand inside his pocket and took something out of it – _things_ – her pearls.

 “I only found thirty seven. I guess the other one must have been swept by the wind… or something. Or maybe Perry Bill ate it.” Cloud said as he took her hand and carefully poured the small glistening pearls inside her palms. Tifa watched; she thought she’d forgotten how to speak. It took a few tries.

 “Thank you.” She finally managed, without tears that would surely incriminate her. It was hard. Although she tried not to, she kept thinking about Cloud leaving. She would never be the same, she thought. Because his eyes were so blue, because these pearls were so white. Every time she looked at the sky, the snow, the peak of the mountain she loved, she would think of him. Always.

 “You’re welcome,” he said, and it was as if all the blue had slipped from the sky and seeped into his eyes, his smile, and the sky was left to remember – and to miss – for all of time. She would, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, thanks for the reviews & kudos & follows so far! They cheer me up a lot :) This chapter was actually the inspiration of my other Cloud & Tifa story, White Heaven, though it changed a lot. Which means… yes, I actually finished writing this thing (Loveless) years ago, and I’ve just been editing and posting them – which explains the uneven quality of writing. Some days I was just so tired and horrified by my old writing to edit a lot, and some days I wrote the whole chapter again. Sorry about that… Anyway, it’s almost finished, and I hope to update the rest real quickly because I have nothing else to do at the moment, no school, heh. Thanks for reading! :)


	30. Lost and Found

  1. Lost and Found



 

 The doctor and the people of the town treated her like a widow. She denied it every time, it never made it past her lips. She didn’t know how it would feel. She had never had a husband, and he had never died (he still breathed and ate and drank. His eyes blinked and sometimes followed a butterfly, but more often lost in the sky).

 In any case, he wasn’t her husband.

\- L.

 Tifa stopped counting after the first week. It felt too much like counting off the days to die, and in a way it was. Tifa was waiting for something but didn’t know what she was waiting for, and it might as well have been death. She didn’t know how many days had passed when the others finally visited her. They looked different, more haggard. Tifa asked about the outside world like it mattered to her still.

 “It’s chaos. Everyone’s panicking.” Yuffie stuck out her tongue as she flopped down next to Cloud, on his bed. The mattress shook widely but Cloud didn’t even blink. “Heya, Cloud. How’ve you been?” She said, casually, like it was a conversation. Cloud didn’t answer.

 “He’s still the same. The doctor says we have to be patient,” Tifa said. Yuffie made a face that was half a smile, half a frown.

 “We’ll be patient, then,” Barret said. He felt too big inside this too-small white room. Tifa had never felt uncomfortable in his company before; now she averted her eyes, his machine-arm incongruous among the white sheets and the medicines.

 “This room’s too small.” Cid complained as he walked in, Vincent in tow. Nanaki, with Cait Sith sitting on top of his head like a crown, slipped in through the legs.

 “It’s hot in here.” Barret said and got up. The stool creaked as if in relief. “I’m goin’ out.”

 “We can’t stay long, either,” Cid said. Tifa nodded, quickly, the one thing she can do. Wait and understand.

 “I know. You got the whole world to worry about. Don’t worry about us.”

 “How are you doing?” It was Vincent.

 “I’m okay,” she said, and wished it to be true. “Just a little tired.”

 “Take it easy, Tifa. We don’t want you to…” Cid clapped his hand on Tifa’s shoulder. At least – he tried to.

The end of his sentence was swallowed by a sudden noise from the outside, or the inside, Tifa couldn’t tell. She heard a shriek from Yuffie. The ground started to shake like it was spitting out everything underneath. Cid tumbled down to the ground. Tifa grabbed Cloud, tore the needle out of him before the bed rolled over and it ripped his skin. Yuffie fell off the bed and hit her shoulder. A monitor was falling on top of her, but Vincent grabbed her out of the way. Glass shattered on the spot she’d just been.

 “What’s going on?” Yuffie shouted.

 “The hell would I…”

 “They’re coming.”

 At first she thought she didn’t recognize the voice, because it’d been such a long time. It didn’t matter, though. She would recognize him anywhere. Tifa looked at Cloud, grabbed him tight, the white hospital robe wrinkling under her fingers.

 “What did you say, Cloud?”

 But Cloud closed his eyes then, like he was going to bed after a tiring day, and the ground shook violently again.

 “You and Cloud stay here, We’ll go see what’s going on.” Cid said, flew out of the room before she could give him an answer. Yuffie and Vincent exchanged a look and followed him out. Vincent’s red cloak shimmered in a flash before it was completely out of sight, and Tifa suddenly thought that it looked like a goodbye. She held on closer to Cloud.

 “It’s the Lifestream.” The low purr of Nanaki’s voice.  

 “What?” She asked, hoping her voice sounded steady enough.

 “The Lifestream, it’s gushing up from below the surface. I can smell it.” With a hiss, he leapt out of the room and left Tifa alone with Cloud. Everything standing had fallen and crashed, but the room kept shaking. And there was the noise.

 It was a crack; Tifa recognized it with sickening clarity. She’d been raised to associate it with only one thing – death. It was the sound of the weight breaking, something big ready to fall. A landslide; those were deadly in the steep mountains of Nibelheim. The ceiling – Tifa didn’t have to look up to see it. She had no time.

 “We have to get out of here.” Tifa picked up the wheelchair that had fallen sideways on the floor, its wheels spinning wildly. She rolled it closer to the bed. Cloud was unconscious, heavy, and she was slipping.

 Another crack. Cloud’s head rolled back and she was pushing the chair now, as fast as she could, while the ground still shook and her teeth with it every time a particularly strong turmoil hit the air. Every step was a shock to her leg, muscles clenching fast and furious. She didn’t have to open the door – it was torn open, along with half the wall of the waiting room. Tifa saw clear blue sky through the broken walls. Everything beneath was shaking but the sky was so serene, the huge meteor hanging from it like just another fixture in the picture. Tifa kept pushing, hearing the cracks become longer and wider. Most of her friends were on the ground trying to get up, except for Vincent. His crimson eyes met hers. Is this goodbye, then, she thought as she tried to move faster, tried to run.

 “No –” Vincent’s eyes were wide. “Stay there, Tifa!”

 “But the ceiling –”

 Tifa didn’t get to explain the rest of it. They were finally out of the broken door of the clinic, but it wasn’t hard ground that was waiting for them. A crack – a much bigger one – had opened up just in front of the building. Something fast and strong coursed through it like blood in a vein. It was – it was the Lifestream.

 Her heart leaped to her throat as she floundered in the air to get a grasp of something, anything. She lost the grip on the wheelchair, and Cloud fell from it like a paper doll. But she was falling, too, her heart leaping into her throat, and the last she saw was the uncontaminated shine of the green Mako, sprinkled with life born from death, and she’d never really found green a pretty color like blue or white, but this was strangely beautiful.

\- L.

_Tifa isn’t exactly sure what the Lifestream is, how it works._

_She’s never paid much attention in her science classes. She thinks it might be everything, now, as she feels her consciousness touching those of the thousand others, those that have died, have not been born yet. They whisper something to her. In the Lifestream, her body ceases to matter. And it’s true – she thinks, regretfully – her physical form has probably already melted. It is like acid, Mako this strong. A small amount can make SOLDIERS lift a bus with their hands. A lot of exposure kills the brain, slowly and painfully, like it has done with Cloud._

_Cloud, where is Cloud?_

_Tifa tries to look but it is impossible without eyes to see. Falling into the Lifestream, it kills. Disintegrates. Yet her mind remains. She thinks she feels a familiar voice amongst the thousand whispers. She thinks it might be telling her, to stop worrying, that everything will be okay._

_She can’t stop worrying when she can’t see Cloud. He’s sick, she tries to speak without tongues. He needs my help. I need him._

_It strikes her that she never even got to say goodbye. She could have, all those times alone with Cloud in the clinic, but she didn’t. She was waiting for him, like she always does. She cannot stop waiting. She cannot forgive herself. She wishes to see Cloud now, to tell him that she’s sorry. To tell him the one thing she’s never told herself. She is brave about a lot of things, but not when it comes to losing Cloud. She doesn’t know when he’s become such an important part of her life like that. It doesn’t seem fair that she had other friends and he didn’t, and yet – he means so much more to her than she will ever mean to him. She longs to see Cloud and tell him those things, although he will probably never hear her._

_And suddenly, a blink and she sees him._

\- L.

 They were standing on a pillar of some sort. It was very dark. Cloud was sitting not far from where Tifa found herself suddenly standing. She blinked. Eyes, legs, arms. There was no feeling, no temperature on her skin. She guessed she must still be inside the Lifestream. This was, probably, all an illusion. Something of a mind. Didn’t mean it wasn’t real, she decided. Anyway, Cloud was here.

 “Cloud?” She called out carefully. Her voice worked fine too. Cloud didn’t answer but he stood up slowly. Tifa suddenly noticed that the pillar had become a small clearing and that the blackness around them had melted to form trees. Strong, straight trees that shot up to the sky and refused to bend. Trees of Nibelheim. They stood so dense, close to each other. Ahead of Cloud there were three narrow paths. She couldn’t see where they led.

 “It’s your mind, isn’t it?” Tifa suddenly realized. “We’re in your mind.”

 It must be the Lifestream, mingling their consciousness together. Cloud turned around. For a moment she was scared of that lost expression on his face. She’d seen it enough times recently, had grown to fear it like Meteor and the end of the world. Probably more. But then his face fell, into a more familiar rigid lines and a slight twist of his eyebrow. He looked confused, but not about where he was.

 “Tifa?” He said.

 She had thought she would never hear his voice again. The feeling was overwhelming, almost physical in this place where she had no body.

 “Yeah, Cloud. It’s me. I’m here to help.” She knew as she spoke; about why she was here, about why – who. “You’re searching, aren’t you? Searching for yourself. I can help too.”

 After a long time, Cloud nodded slowly.

 “Where should we start, then? Here?” Tifa made her way to the path on the far left. The road was unpaved, bumpy and wet with rain. She knew where it was. The trees surrounding it loomed above them like silent guards. She’d always felt protected by them.

 “The gates of Nibelheim.” Cloud said as he walked past her down into the path. Tifa followed, a little dazed. Cloud’s memory – for she assumed that was what it was – was intricate to a tiny white flower growing by the foot of the old worn-out sign that read _Welcome to Nibelheim._ The smell was suddenly there, too, a mixture of rain and dirt.

 “Five years ago. Sephiroth passed through these gates.” Cloud was saying. “And that’s how it all started.”

 “Yeah,” Tifa took a breath. “Let’s go have a look.”

\- L.

 “How does it feel?”

 Tifa remembered Sephiroth to be cold, his body lean as a weapon. It might just have been the image formed afterwards, though, because the man in Cloud’s memory was different from how she remembered him. Sephiroth was standing by the Nibelheim sign, brushing the dirt off the _m_ at the end. The rain still lingered in condensed drops in the air and soaked in the wood. He didn’t seem to mind.

 “What?” Came Cloud’s voice. Tifa turned around. In his memory, he was wearing the same black suit that Tifa had gotten used to. First class SOLDIER. A knot in her heart clenched tighter as she watched.

 “It’s your first time back to your hometown in a long time, right?” Sephiroth’s voice was as deep as she remembered, shattering the molecules in the air around. He didn’t seem to be mocking, though. Tifa was surprised at the curiosity behind his voice.

 “I’m not really sure.” Memory-Cloud shrugged indifferently. Sephiroth regarded him for a moment longer. “You know,” Cloud added a little uncertainly.

 “I wouldn’t know. I don’t have a hometown.” Sephiroth said. Cloud scratched his head, something she’d never seen him do before. It looked like someone else. His face scrunched up in an expression between curiosity and caution.

 “Um, how ‘bout your parents? Where do they… live?”

 “My mother was called Jenova, I hear.” Sephiroth said. Tifa flinched at the familiar name. She was watching this all like the first scene of a film she knew the ending of. It was much more normal than she would have thought, though.

 “You hear? You mean…” Cloud rubbed his palm over the back of his head, looking nervous. It didn’t kill the curiosity in his eyes, though, and that – that looked familiar enough.

 “She died right after she gave birth to me. My father…” He hesitated. Then, to her surprise, a laugh. It wasn’t a proper laugh, a chuckle of self-deprecation rather than mirth, but it was a laugh. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. Let’s go.”

 She watched as Sephiroth started walking into the familiar dirt road into the main square of the town. She could see the town well between the trees, and Billy’s grocery store behind it.

 Memory-Cloud stepped up, walked past her. She looked at the well again.

 “No, wait.” Tifa grabbed his arm. She’d half-expected her hand to go right through, but the flesh beneath her palm was solid and warm, surprisingly real. Memory-Cloud turned his head and looked at her. He did not seem particularly surprised. Tifa gulped down her fear and wet her lips.

 “No, Cloud.” She said again. She looked to where Sephiroth had walked to, but the long silver hair had disappeared. There was only Cloud, and then there was Tifa.

 “I’ve been… hiding it for some time, afraid that if I told you… something terrible might happen.” The confession came like a fall, an endless fall into the waterfall. “But I’m not going to hide anything anymore.” Something hot pricked at her eyes, but it was ridiculous that she should cry. Memory-Cloud looked at her, expressionless like she’d seen him for the most of the last months. His memory world was silent.

 “You… you weren’t here, Cloud. I… You didn’t come to Nibelheim five years ago.” Tifa said, took a breath. “I waited but, but you never came. It was only Sephiroth and another… another SOLDIER.” She couldn’t remember his name right now, but it didn’t matter. “But it wasn’t you.”

 She was almost afraid to meet his eyes, see his expression, but when she did she found it strangely peaceful. Like it was something he’d been waiting to hear all this time. She did not understand.

 “I never came?” He asked, just as calmly. “Then why do I have the memory?”

\- L.

 The next memory was of the well that night. Thousands of stars filling up the heaven. In Cloud’s memory, the wall of the well was bigger than it should have been and the night colder than she remembered, but the stars were the same. Maybe they were both remembering it wrong. All the same, it was important that they both did. Sephiroth had said that Cloud had made up his memories by listening to Tifa’s stories. For one horrid second it seemed all too plausible, because Cloud really hadn’t remembered until she said… but no, she did not remember talking about the stars. So many stars, almost ready to rain down.

 As she watched, little Cloud shot up his head at the exact same time young Tifa came running down. Their eyes met. Tifa watched her past self brush the long hair off her face.

 “Sorry I’m late. Couldn’t get out fast enough.”

 “That’s okay.” Cloud shrugged. “I was just freezing to death, that’s all.”

 Tifa remembered laughing the same way she did now, in Cloud’s memory. Her dress looked more beautiful than she remembered, folds falling onto each other like water.

 She remembered the conversation too well. She had played it in her mind over and over again, trying to make herself sick. Trying to remember, trying to forget. She now watched for any differences, any fakes like the one with Sephiroth and the other SOLDIER, but couldn’t find any.

 “That night the stars were gorgeous,” Tifa said to the little Cloud who was swinging his legs back and forth. He looked down at the ground, then at the sky. “I remember it too. That’s why I believe you’re real. Cloud from Nibelheim. My friend.” Tifa sat down on the other side of Cloud, watching the stars like she had done that night. Cloud was so small sitting like this. The little ponytail he’d worn dangled with his body. The sparkling blue of his eyes was untainted by any other color, not green, and not even gray.

 “But you don’t believe in yourself. The memories are not enough.” Tifa said softly. Little Cloud turned his head. Their eyes met and Tifa was surprised because there was just so much hope in them. She hadn’t known it at the time.

 “I can’t trust my memories.” The boy said quietly, almost a whisper. His voice was not yet deep, a trace of childhood still laced.

 “I say something, but then I’m scared you won’t remember.” Tifa told him. She couldn’t look away from his eyes. She remembered how she used to search for the sky in them. “But you say something, and if I remember it too, then we’ll know it’s _our_ memory. That it’s real. Isn’t that enough?” She took a breath. “Tell me, Cloud. Why’d you want to join SOLDIER?”

 A slow grin spread across the little boy’s face. How she’d missed that grin. There were times when she had resigned to never seeing it again.

 “You know why.” Cloud said. “I was sick of all that. School. Kids.”

 “They bullied you.” Tifa felt like being brave. Today was the day to end all secrets. What does it matter, she thought, she had probably already died. Her body had disintegrated and melted into the Lifestream. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it.”

 “There was nothing you could have done.” Cloud said. He didn’t sound like he was forgiving her, but like there was nothing to forgive. “And I wanted to be strong. So that no one… so that someone…”

 “All that time you were acting like it didn’t matter to you one way or another.” Tifa said. Cloud looked at her with what felt like amusement.

 “You were easy to lie to,” the little boy said, and Tifa felt like laughing.

 “But I remember. Do you remember?” She asked. Cloud nodded.

 “Everything. That time Johnny pushed me into the river.”

 “It was Johnny?” Tifa had never known. “You even remember something I don’t, Cloud,” she looked into the boy’s eyes again. They had the heaven and the stars in them. “If we have the same memory… how could you have been made five years ago?”

 “It’s time to go back.” Cloud whispered. The imagined – or real, she could not tell – world shifted around them and there was a second of void. The whiteness melted into green, then the smell came first. A sickening stench of Mako reeking out from the air around them. Tifa looked around. The little boy wasn’t there anymore. There was a little girl, though, and the body of her father lying cold on the ground. Tifa recognized the brown beard and the calluses on his limp hands. She recognized the dark brown hair of the girl as she ran up the stairs, to where a man stood with his back turned. She knew what happened next. It looked feeble, standing outside her own body like this, her tiny self no more than a fly in Sephiroth’s mind. He did not even have to turn around. Young Tifa fell down the stairs, the sound of a bone cracking, with a bleeding gush on her side. The fire would be cracking all around the surface above, burning everything she knew to ashes. The inside of the reactor was untouched like a sanctum, but she could still feel the flames. The memory come to life –

 “But this is your memory.” Tifa choked. Cloud was suddenly there, looking much like she remembered. Older, sadder. He turned his head. The Mako reflected green lights on the side of his face.

 “I know,” he said. Just then, a man came crashing down from inside a separate chamber that Sephiroth had disappeared to, the one that had a sign that read _JENOVA._ The black-haired SOLDIER. He crashed, hard, on the top of the stairs and slid down the rest. A normal human being wouldn’t have survived it, and the SOLDIER looked dead for a minute. The reactor was eerily silent compared to the outside world. Her own breathing was barely audible, thin slices of air escaping her raw throat. After a while the SOLDIER gulped, sputtered out a breath and his back began to heave. Like he had broken his windpipe from the fall and they had just attached themselves together. Someone ran to him as Tifa watched in horrified silence. A young infantryman, still with his mask on.

 “Zack.”

 It wasn’t the infantryman. Tifa looked at the memory – hallucination – of the older Cloud beside her. He was staring at the man, eyes wide. The memories came back to her, too. _Zack_. She remembered the name now. More importantly, “You remembered.”

 Cloud didn’t answer. The memory of Zack was now pushing the hilt of his sword toward the infantryman. With a thump of her heart, she realized where she’d seen the sword, why it looked so familiar. She did not know much about swords, but the one that Zack pushed into the palms of the infantryman was so big, it looked too heavy for just one man to carry.

 With another thump, Zack opened half of his eyes and mouth. blood was running down his chin but he managed to push the words out. That was when Tifa knew.

 “Cloud,” Zack said, something like diamond glistening through the half-opened eyes. “Finish… Sephiroth.”

 “It was you.” Tifa whispered. The infantryman took off his mask. “That’s what happened.”

 “Hold on, Zack.” Cloud, younger than the one standing beside her and older than the one sitting by the well, whispered to the SOLDIER. He grabbed the sword and got up. The metal swayed a little bit but he managed to hold it up. He ran to the chamber. The memory ended.

 “What…” Tifa shook her head as the vision changed again. The smell came first, again, but a different one. Of rain mixed with dirt, of tress vibrating with droplets of water, of water steeped heavily into the air. A truck was rolling on a dirt road, a plastic tarp covering the heads of the people sitting at the back. Raindrops made dull sounds as they hit the plastic. Sephiroth sat in the corner, leafing through a bunch of papers. He looked bored, or maybe content, his long sword resting against the cab window. The tip of the sword stuck out from under the tent and cut the raindrops in halves. They bled water along the glistening edge of the sword.

Zack and Cloud were sitting on the other end. Cloud as she’d never seen; a sixteen-year-old Cloud. She often imagined how he would have looked at sixteen. He was wearing a light blue infantryman’s outfit rather than the black one she’d gotten used to, but the face was as she’d imagined. At sixteen, dancing between innocence and maturity, his pale skin looked out of place amongst the sharp ends of swords and the heavy guns scattered on the floor. He had his body turned to the outside, gripping the edge and staring out at the rain. Zack was cleaning his gun with a cloth, leaning against the panels. He glanced at Cloud.

 “You okay, Cloud?”

 “What?” Cloud turned, startled. He blinked a few times and looked away. “Oh. Yeah, just…”

 “Lost in your dream world?” Zack guessed, chuckling. He seemed to find Cloud amusing.

 “Carsick.” Cloud said and leaned further out into the rain. A few drops caught his hair and bounced off again.

 “Yeah?” Zack’s expression shifted, a crease between his brows. Tifa remembered he looked rather scary when he wasn’t laughing or smiling. It was the sharp edges of his blue eyes, and the x-shaped scar just beside the left one. But then he grinned again and his entire face crumbled into something warmer, something kinder. He patted Cloud’s shoulder. “Hang in there, we’re almost there.”

 “How far?”

 “Ten minutes. Maybe less.” It was Sephiroth who answered. Cloud avoided the general’s stare, but Zack’s grin got bigger.

 “Yeah, see?”

 “Can I ask you a favor, Zack?” Cloud slumped against the panel and stretched out his legs. He still looked a little sick, but not because of the moving car.

 “What?”

 “When we get to Nibelheim… and someone asks about me,” Cloud paused, as if he was trying to choose the words carefully. “You know, anyone. Just in case. Will you say you don’t know?”

 “But,” Zack looked confused. He put the gun down, cocked his head like a curious dog. “You’ll be right there. Won’t they recognize you?”

 Tifa could see Sephiroth look up at that, his expression unreadable, but memory-Cloud didn’t notice.

 “Not with the mask on.” Cloud said. Zack scratched the back of his head.

 “Okay…? But why?”

 “It’s just…” Cloud hesitated. He finally seemed to realize that the general was listening to their conversation. “Nothing,” he hastily concluded. Zack’s eyebrows shot up but he didn’t push.

 “Don’t worry,” he said instead, cheerfully. “I’ll be such a good actor, even _you’ll_ start to think that I don’t know you. Cloud? Who’s that? Such a weird name.” He mimicked a dumb voice, theatrically scrunching up his face. That drew a laughter from Cloud. The sound mingled with the pouring rain and dissolved into the road they were leaving behind.

 A blink, and Tifa was back in the black abyss with the older Cloud. She looked at his face and tried to find the remains of the laughter in the carved lines of his face.

 “So that’s it,” Tifa said.

 “That’s it,” Cloud said, and he looked relieved. Tifa couldn’t think of anything else to say. It seemed appropriate enough, as natural as any, so she walked over and hugged him. Cloud didn’t move.

 “I was embarrassed.” He said down her hair. “I told you I’d come back as a SOLDIER. But I wasn’t.”

 “It’s okay. It would’ve been okay.” She pulled away. She was probably imagining it, because she didn’t think she had a body anymore, but Cloud felt warm. Alive.

 “Hey, I remember you saying that,” Tifa laughed a little. It was ridiculously easy. “That you’d come back as a SOLDIER. He’s lying, Cloud. You’re not… you weren’t _constructed_ five years ago.”

 “He might have made you think…” Cloud frowned. Tifa shook her head to shut him up.

 “What does it matter? You remember, I remember. I believe.” She said.

 After what felt like a long time, Cloud nodded. He was looking at Tifa and she could see every freckle on his face, across the pale skin. She could see herself in his eyes.

 “Me too.”

 “It’s a shame we only got to figure it out right before we died.” Tifa said. It didn’t feel weird saying it, and she wasn’t really afraid. Maybe it was something about this place in-between, or maybe it was that Cloud was with her.

 “What do you mean?” Cloud blinked. Tifa had forgotten that Cloud hadn’t been in a great shape before the fall. He probably didn’t remember.

 “We fell,” she sighed. “Into the Lifestream. Our bodies are probably dead now.”

 Cloud raised his eyebrows. If anything, he looked a little amused, and Tifa was going to ask about that when someone said, “Not really,” and then the warmth came to embrace them again. She felt tingling in her non-existent body until it was, it was there again. A rush of green came to meet them. She heard thousands of whispers, some her name, some she recognized. And she knew,

 “Aerith,” Tifa said. Amongst the voices and the swirl of green _life_ , she thought she saw a smile.

\- L.

 When she opened her eyes, she was dripping something like water and her vision blurred and focused on a face, looking down at her.

 “Good to see you,” she grinned slowly. Cloud let out a relieved sigh.

 “You okay?”

 “Hey, Tifa! You awright?” It was Barret. Tifa turned her head to see that she was still in Mideel, the sun setting in brilliant red, the crack in the ground somehow mended again. Cloud was also dripping something like water, and it reminded her of that time he climbed through her window in the middle of January.

 “I didn’t really find you,” she said to Cloud. He was holding her arms. His hands were slippery, but warm. “You found yourself on your own.”

 Cloud shook his head, but she didn’t know what it meant. He looked calm, though. Tifa slowly relaxed into a sleep.

\- L.

 Cloud took a breath. He felt the air molecules entering his body, blood circulating his veins in a silent _thump, thump_. It had been a long time.

 “I’m sorry,” he said.

They were on an airship that apparently Cid had stolen from Shinra – or was it the other way around? The details were a little hard to understand, with everyone shouting out their stories at the same time. The important thing was that they were all here now. Cloud dropped his head. “I don’t know what to say.”

 “Don’t say anything.” Nanaki purred. He had his paws on Cloud’s boots. The fake SOLDIER’s boots and the fake SOLDIER’s uniform. His memories were still a little messed up, but he did faintly recall Zack muttering something about drenched clothes and Mako stinks.

 “All you’ve been doing is apologizing.” Yuffie said cheerfully. She thumped Cloud on his back. “I’m just glad you’re back with us.”

 “Still,” Cloud glanced at Barret. “I do need to explain a few things.”

 “Would be helpful.” Barret grunted. The Highwind gently rubbed against the air, the engine running smooth like a cat.

 “Well, I’m not a SOLDIER. For one.” Cloud started slowly. He could feel everyone listening, even though he wasn’t looking at any of them. He was trying his best to be honest this time. It could all have been another lie, but he hung onto the words that Tifa had said – _I believe._

 “They wouldn’t have me. I wasn’t old enough and I wasn’t strong enough. I became an infantryman instead. I became friends with…”

 _Ditto Nibelheim,_ the voice. The grin, the laughter. _We’re friends, right?_ Cloud’s head still hurt when he thought about him. It was like fighting another wall. Deeper, stronger, different somehow. Because it was put up by a different person?

 “… Zack, and five years ago, we came to Nibelheim with Sephiroth to inspect a reactor failure. Sephiroth went mad. I managed to throw him into the Mako and I thought he was dead… everyone thought he was dead.” Cloud flinched at the memory. Of the long masamune running through his chest, of thinking of death and rage and Zack’s last words. Of Tifa lying still on the ground. He still didn’t know how he’d done it.

 “And then I would have died, probably, but Hojo took me and Zack. He… we were,”

  _Are you okay? We can get out._ Words meant to reassure. Zack hadn’t been affected too much. Cloud’s head had been constantly swimming with the infuse of too much Mako and wrong energy.

 _Let’s get out. Feeding time._ He’d always promised. In the end he did. He could have left Cloud, probably would have lived and escaped to Midgar, but Zack wasn’t that kind of a guy. In the end he died for someone who couldn’t even remember – not until now.

 “Hojo’s plan to clone Sephiroth wasn’t too complicated.” He heard himself explaining. His voice sounded calm enough. “It was just the same procedure they used to create SOLDIER, though none of them had really known. Injecting Jenova cells. That’s why I’m physically built like a first class SOLDIER. He overdosed, though, I think. I was a failure.”

 “ … And then what? What happened?” Nanaki leaned forward. Cloud shook his head.

 “I think Zack broke us out, but it’s still hazy. I’m still… messed up.”

 “Yeah,” Barret rolled his eyes. “As if that’s news. Ain’t no difference from before.” That drew a chuckle from Cid. Cloud had to agree.

 “So, what’re you gonna do now?” Cait Sith asked. He was sitting on Nanaki’s head, like that was his new home. Home. His gaze flickered to the window behind Cait Sith, at the sky and the giant meteor hanging dangerously close. It was like an ugly cancer in the spotless blue of the sky.

 “I guess we fight.” Cloud said. Tifa smiled.

 “Oh, I like the sound of that.” Cid said cheerfully as he chewed on the end of his unlit cigarette. “So where to, leader?”

 Cloud thought it sounded strange, _leader_ , considering he was a nobody who had been pretending to be someone he wasn’t, living in his own illusion. But he would have to think about that some other time.

 “From what you tell me, Shinra is gathering Huge Materia to blow up the Meteor.” Cloud said carefully. “Is that right?”

 “Yeah, and we’ve agreed to agree that it’s a bad idea.” Yuffie supplied. “It’s gonna blow up Meteor, sure, but like, half the planet with it.”

 “How could they be so dimwitted?” Nanaki seemed truly puzzled.

 “And the debris,” Cloud said. “The debris from the Meteor will still hurt a lot of people.”

 “It may be _dimwitted_ ,” Vincent said. “But it’s what they could think of. In the end, is it not better to save at least half of the planet?”

 “There has to be another way.” Yuffie pouted, sitting back on the sofa. “So pessimistic, Vince.”

 “Pragmatic. Don’t call me that.”

 Cloud felt strangely like laughing. In the middle of the end of the world, when he didn’t even know who he was, this felt normal.

 “There’s an underwater reactor in Junon.” Cait Sith said suddenly. He’d been quiet, like he’d been listening to a conversation that wasn’t happening here. He probably had. It occurred to Cloud that Cait Sith had been a Shinra spy, last time he checked. Cloud didn’t know what kind of expression he had on his face, but Vincent seemed to be reading his mind.

 “Don’t worry, Cloud.” He said, glancing at Cait Sith. “You can trust him. We’ve established that.”

 “How?”

 “Don’t ask.” Barret grunted.

 “Yeah… I’m sorta like _your_ spy now.” Cait Sith assured him. “So, anyway, there’s an underwater reactor in Junon and as far as I can see, that’s the only one left.”

 “What’d you want to do?” Cid said. He was sitting behind the control panel, leaning back with his legs up between the buttons. He seemed particularly eager to avoid making any kind of decision. Cloud frowned.

 “He been the temporary leader, while you were gone.” Barret whispered loudly.

 “I ain’t bad at it!” Cid protested. “Just, tired of making decisions, all.”

 “No, he wasn’t terrible.” Yuffie said generously. Cid eyed her suspiciously.

 “Well, then, we’ll go to Junon. We should get to that Huge Materia before Shinra does.” At Vincent’s questioning look, Cloud explained. “I don’t know, yet, if we should let Shinra get on with their plan. Maybe there’s another way, maybe there isn’t. But let’s leave it as the last resort. And let’s see if we can find any other ways.”

 Vincent nodded. “Sounds reasonable.”

 Even though he said it like he knew what he meant, Cloud wasn’t sure if there _would_ be another way, and if he’d end up being responsible for the destruction of half the planet. But still, he had to try. He wished Aerith was here. He wished Zack was here. Two people he would have trusted with everything, his life, his soul, this planet. Two people he’d seen dead. That he might as well have killed. Cloud closed his eyes. He hoped he’d be able to find some kind of penance, someday.

 “To Junon it is!” Cid said brightly as the airship made a sharp turn. Yuffie made a sound between a yelp and a groan.

 


	31. Pretense

  1. Pretense



 

_“The worst is yet to come, my dear,_

_I’ve been fighting back for what feels like_

_Nearly several hundred years,_

_If you just let me make my own mistakes_

_I promise I’ll behave,_

_Only in the worst way.”_

From _The Worst Is Yet to Come_ by _Motion City Soundtrack_

\- L.

 Junon was as he remembered. The sea was still littered with odd cans and plastic bags; some dead fish bobbed up and down on the water, their dead eyes black and staring. Yuffie made a face like she did the first time. Also like he remembered, the town was dead-quiet.

 “It’s creepy.” Barret said, unnecessarily, and shuddered.

 “Where do we go? Where’s the reactor?” Cid asked Cait Sith, who was sitting on Nanaki’s head like usual. Cloud still didn’t know what had happened while he was… asleep, but if Cid and Barret trusted the spy cat, Cloud thought he could, too. He looked at Cait Sith. Cait Sith’s slit eyes drooped like an exaggerated sad face.

 “It’s near the cannon, or where it used to be. But there are guards… I can’t see a way through.”

 “We can take on a few guards!”

 “What do you mean, where it used to be?” Cloud asked at the same time that Barret huffed out his chest. Cait Sith looked at him, strangely apologetic.

 “We, I mean, the Shinra… has taken the Great Cannon of Junon. A few days ago.”

 “Taken? For what?” Tifa sounded bemused. Cloud agreed that anything the Shinra could do with a giant cannon would cause a lot of damage.

 “I don’t know. I don’t have the clearance.” Cait Sith shrugged. He looked a little uncomfortable. Cloud also noted that a lot of the silliness and levity had disappeared from the cat’s voice (he remembered the old Cait Sith saying _there’s only one me!_ ).

“Back to the problem at hand.” Cid grumbled. “How many guards?”

 “At least a couple of troops, on the way to the dock. They expect you guys to show up and mess it up, you know.”

Yuffie smiled mischievously. “And that we will! If only we can get there…”

 “I think I know who can help us.” Cloud said. He had been looking at the coarse white sand of what remained of the beach, and the almost graying tide that hit the rocks and litters alike. He was remembering how the water smelled like the inside of a fish, cold and unpleasant on his skin. 

\- L.

 “Cloud! You’re back!” Priscilla beamed from the door. Priscilla’s mother smiled at them too.

 “Welcome, Cloud. Prisiclla’s been doing nothing but talk about you. Come in, all of you.”

 Barret mumbled something about being rude, but followed her in anyway.

 “Mom! It wasn’t like that, it was…”

 “It’s okay, honey, I’m sure Cloud understands.” Her mother called as she went into the living room. Priscilla turned to Cloud then, and was suddenly hugging his waist – Cloud had no idea what to do with the situation. He raised his hand hesitantly and patted Priscilla on the head. Yuffie giggled. Priscilla looked up and beamed at him.

 “You haven’t forgotten your promise.” She said. 

 “Right, the promise. Yeah, of course not. I said I’d come back.” Cloud said. “Actually, Priscilla, we need your help again.”

 Priscilla smiled happily. “Anything!”  

 “Come in for some tea, won’t you all?” Priscilla’s mother called from the living room.

 “I’d kill for a cup of tea.” Cid said as he slipped through the narrow corridor.

 Yuffie rolled her eyes. “Sometimes you’re such an old man, _old man._ ” Cid ignored her.

 Priscilla took Cloud’s hand as she led him excitedly into the small living room.

 “Why do you need my help, Cloud?” She asked, as soon as Priscilla’s mom had brought out the tea.

 “Well,” Cloud pretended to take a sip of the tea, because Priscilla’s mother was watching, smiling. “Do you know where the dock is?”

 “Of course.” Priscilla rolled her eyes. “Everyone knows.”

 “Right, well. The Shinra are there right now. Doing… some bad things.”

 Priscilla did not look particularly surprised. “They’re always doing bad things.”

 “Yeah. We’re gonna stop them, though.” Cloud gestured vaguely at the party gathered in Priscilla’s small living room. Barret tried to look reassuring.

 “But we need to get to the dock, and there are too many guards on the way.” Tifa continued.  

 “Right. So I was wondering if you knew a different way? A back way, like with the airport,” Cloud said. Priscilla looked delighted, and nodded vigorously, and Cloud felt a wave of relief.

 “Of course! Through the underground pipes!”

 The relief faded a little. He hoped the smile on his face wasn’t too forced.

\- L.

 “I thought I was done tunneling when I quit bein’ a terrorist.” Barret complained. His voice smashed against the pipes and seemed to make the darkness even smaller. Cloud wished he’d be quiet, but then the silence might actually be more terrifying. He shut his mouth and plunged forward. The shallow stagnant water lapped against his knees and hands. He wasn’t too delighted to find that it still smelled like the inside of a fish.

 “We’re still terrorists.” Cid pointed out. His spear was getting in the way, kept poking Cloud’s boots.

 “Eww, it smells like… like, Barret’s toes.” Yuffie said.

 “Shut up, Yuffie. My feet ain’t that smelly.”

 “We’re almost there.” Cloud said, just to say something. He didn’t know where they were, but it seemed like it had been enough time. Cloud remembered squeezing his way through the air duct, all those weeks ago in Midgar. _That_ felt like such a long time ago. He hadn’t known where he’d gotten the claustrophobia from, then. He remembered it all too clearly now but knowing the reason didn’t help anything. He kept smelling Mako in the air. There was a way out. There had been a way out then.

 “I see the exit.” Vincent said. He was leading the group, because he was the fastest. He somehow managed some sort of grace even while he was crawling in knee-deep rotten water. Cloud sighed in relief, followed by everyone else behind. They picked up the pace.

 When the light reached his eyes, the salty ocean air was sweet, brushing back his hair. They crawled out of the pipes. The sky was clear and the ocean was the same color. They were standing underneath the dock, which stood tall over them like a mountain; all the guards were facing the other direction, the only way to reach the docks. Well, conventionally. Cloud didn’t have time to be relieved, though, because…

 “We’re too late.” Cid muttered darkly. “All that frantic climbing, an’ we’re still too late.”

 Cloud watched in clenched anxiety as the crane worked on the dock, lowering something into a submarine that waited below.

 “Is that…” Tifa narrowed her eyes.

 “That’s the Huge Materia.” Vincent confirmed. He sounded gloomier than usual. Cloud could just make out a flaming red head in the distance, gesturing at the group of infantrymen. He watched helplessly as the Materia completed its descent into the submarine, and the infantrymen started detaching the wires. Reno was now pointing at something, to where the half of the men started jogging. Cloud narrowed his eyes.

 “Can’t believe we’re too late. Dammit.” Barret sounded dejected.

 “Wait,” Cloud shielded his eyes from the sun with his hand. He watched as the group of men came closer to their location, although the angle would hide them from view if they weren’t looking. They weren’t. They were descending a set of stairs, into… “It’s not too late.”

 Cloud pointed to the infantrymen. They seemed to be disappearing into water, only it wasn’t water.

 “There’s a second submarine. Let’s take that.”

 “What?” Cait Sith squeaked. “How come I didn’t know this?”

 “Mebbe you ain’t that big a shot.” Barret said.

 “Take the second submarine and then what?” Yuffie sounded sea-sick already.

 “Shoot down the first one!” Cid yelled, with all the grace of a seven-year-old boy, and then started running.

\- L.

 Taking over the submarine was almost deceptively easy. They waited until the last soldier was climbing the railway to disappear into the black hole, and knocked him out soundlessly.  Cloud had taken Vincent and Tifa (Yuffie claimed she would be too sick) with him, then it was just a matter of a lot of sneaking around, and then later, moving the unconscious bodies out to the ground.

 “Well, that way easy.” Barret said as he climbed in last. The hatch began to drift closed. Cloud tried not to think how he was going to be inside a closed box – essentially – deep underwater.

 “Does anyone even know how – ugh,” Yuffie grasped Barret’s arm, doubling over. She looked green.

 “Don’t puke on me.” Barret said, but he held Yuffie as she lowered herself against the wall.

 “I’ve never driven a submarine, if that’s what you’re asking.” Cloud said, feeling a little sick himself. It was all so much better when his head was screwed up into thinking he was Zack or – whatever it was doing. He hadn’t had motion-sickness then. The claustrophobia, the nausea, the exhaustion – everything was so much worse now. But he wasn’t going to think about that.

 “I was hoping you could.” Cloud looked at Cid expectantly.

 “I’ve never dealt with one underwater.” Cid started, but hastened to change his words when Nanaki threw him a look. “That ain’t to say, I can’t. Of course I can. It’ll be just like an airship. And I’m a genius.”

 “I knew you could, Cid.” Tifa smiled reassuringly. She knew how to deal with people. With Cid, it was equal parts feeding and provoking his self-esteem.

 “Right, let’s get to it then.” Cid said confidently and started walking to the control room. Cloud made to follow, but all the knowledge he had of submarines was that the windows looked out to the heavy waters, and that the machines crowded the walls and the small space of the control room.

 “I think I better stay here.” Cloud said. Tifa eyed him with a little concern before following Cid.

 “Don’t be a baby, Cloud.” Barret huffed and went after Tifa, but there was no real annoyance in his voice. If anything, he sounded amused. So Cloud let it go and slid down beside Yuffie. The hallway was narrow, but it was easier to imagine they were somewhere else in here – a normal building on normal ground. Nanaki curled himself beside Cloud’s feet. Cait Sith had fallen silent; the signal must be bad here. Vincent hovered between the hallway and the control room, looking uneasy.

 “Wow, I’ve never seen you look so…” Yuffie gestured tiredly. “Out of it.”

 “I prefer the air.” Vincent said as a curt explanation.

 “I prefer land. Like a proper human being and not a fish or a… bird.” Yuffie said.

 “So do I, although I am not human.” Nanaki said. That drew a small giggle out of Yuffie. For his part, Cloud was feeling both sick and frustrated. Now that he remembered, he had no illusion, and he knew how _weak_ he really was. He almost wished he hadn’t learned the truth. Because now… now, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to finish Sephiroth.

His head started to hurt as the pressure built, water gliding strong and smooth over the streamlined body of the ship. He could feel the slightest change in the air pressure. His senses were still that of a SOLDIER’s, another accomplice to the demented act he’d made himself believe. Nobody said anything as time passed like deep-sea water and Cloud didn’t think he even breathed until a delighted yelp sounded from the control room. “Ya did it, Cid! You _shot it down!_ ”

 Cloud let out a breath.

\- L.

 He was in a hurry to get out – only second after Yuffie, who basically threw herself out like there was an explosion behind her. He didn’t, therefore, see Reno until it was almost too late. Cloud supposed Reno could have shot him if he wanted to, and it did nothing to ease the troubles in his mind – the growing self-doubt. It was gathering almost as fast as a snowball rolling down a hill.

 Reno _didn’t_ shoot him, though, and he looked almost as surprised as Cloud, although he must have been waiting for the infiltrators. There was no one else beside him and Rude, but Cloud supposed two Turks were usually enough for any job.

 “Huh, you’re alive.” Reno said. Cloud didn’t say anything. The rest of them piled out and the gathering was strangely silent, like a reluctant peace treaty. The thing with Reno – Cloud thought, tiredly – was that you never knew when you had to expect a fight.

 “Look, Rude, he’s alive.” Reno pointed him out like Rude was blind. Rude raised one eyebrow, in an extremely contained expression of surprise. Reno turned to stare at him again. “Thought you were toast.”

 “I was, for a while.” Cloud said. Reno seemed to find that funny. Cloud felt Barret glance anxiously at him. None of them was sure of what to do. Rude looked similarly confused.

 “Reno,” Rude chided.

 “Well, we’ve been ordered to capture, kill or seriously hurt whoever pulled that stunt. Rufus is seriously pissed.” Reno said. Cloud felt the air tense as his friends started bracing for a fight. Reno pretended not to notice. Cloud didn’t miss the choice of phrase he’d used. He wondered if he was going too far, but he said it anyway.

 “But obviously you’re gonna let us go.”

 “Am I?” Reno faked a surprise. He flicked his electric rod casually. Cloud saw Vincent eyeing it like a hawk with a prey, and Rude eyeing Vincent.

 “Yeah, because you do it every time.”

 “I don’t do it because I _like_ you.” Reno made a face, as if the idea itself was revolting. Cloud knew that the tension had passed. Reno slapped Rude on his shoulder. “Because Rude here, has a…”

 “Reno.” This time it was a warning, accentuated with a gloved hand smacked across Reno’s mouth. Reno scrunched up his face in pain as he yanked the hand off.

 “Relax, I won’t say.” He turned to Cloud. “Because I have a mind. Surprise, surprise.”

 “You mean you disagree with the Shinra’s idea of ramming the Meteor with lots of gun power?” Tifa said pointedly. Reno grinned good-naturedly.

 “Whatever you say. By the way, Cid, your rookies send their regard.”

 “What?” Cid looked startled to be addressed. Cloud looked at Reno suspiciously but he carried on like he was talking to an old friend.

 “Especially Jamie. Isn’t he also from your home town? He was so thrilled to be back. What was the project you’ve been working on – was it 20349?”

 “No,” Cid looked bewildered. Yuffie and Rude were staring at Reno like he’d lost his mind. “It’s R-348,” Cid said. Reno shrugged.

 “Oh, I guess Jamie was wrong.”

 “Reno, I don’t think –” Rude started to say, but suddenly there was a flash of flaming red and Reno had darted forward, the rod coming down on metal, almost too fast to follow. Cloud didn’t realize what he was doing until he felt the hard resistance on his sword, didn’t even realize he’d pulled it out. He pushed, and Reno stepped back just as quickly before the arc of his sword could slice his skin.

 “Well, too bad. We tried. Didn’t we, Rude?”

 Rude looked at Reno wordlessly for a moment, but then he nodded. “They were too good.”

 “Cloud Strife was back from the dead,” Reno continued. “We were outnumbered by… his entire gang, and the SOLDIER boy was merciless.”

 “We had no choice but to retreat.” Rude followed. It sounded like they were practicing for the report they would have to give to Rufus.

 “Yeah, barely.” Reno said. Rude then punched him in the face. “Oi! Was that really necessary?” Reno said, cradling the bruise that was starting to form on his left cheek. Cait Sith made an odd sound that was maybe a laughter.

 “Absolutely.” Rude said, and then they were walking away.

 “That was _so_ weird.” Yuffie commented some time later.

 “I don’t care as long as they don’t give us no trouble.” Barret shrugged.

 “But… but he said like the randomest things!” Yuffie said. “Reno, I mean. Rude didn’t say anything except his name.”

 “He was trying to help us.” Cloud said, what he’d realized a minute ago. “When he talked about Jamie.”

 Cid raised his eyebrow incredulously. “Jamie really ain’t that bright. I mean, he was good enough with engine and all…”

 “Reno said he was happy to be back in his hometown.” Cloud said slowly.

 “Yeah, and?”

 “And, that means that Cid’s team is back in Rocket Town. But why?” Tifa said, realizing.

 “I don’t know, but Shinra’s up to something. In Rocket Town. And I think Reno was trying to tell us that.”

 “Why would he do that?” Yuffie narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

 “And even if he did… why would he not just say it plainly? Is this some sort of human custom I am not understanding?” Nanaki asked. Cloud had the answer out of his mouth before he knew it himself.

 “I guess he takes his job seriously.”

 He knew it didn’t make a lot of sense, but they had more urgent things to do than discuss Reno’s professional ethics. Yuffie just shrugged it off and they were running back to where Cid had stashed the Highwind, in the woods.

 In his mind, though, Cloud was hearing a different voice speak of dreams – and honor. He thought he wouldn’t be strong enough, but all those hours – watching him, watching them – still must have counted for something. He thought back to how he had pulled out his sword, the clash of heavy metal, and how effortless it had seemed. Well-practiced, when he was anything but. He had never had a SOLDIER training, had never dealt with a proper sword before – before Zack thrust one into his hands and asked him to finish Sephiroth.

 All those months, pretending. Acting. Dreams. Honor.

 Cloud shook his head. He picked up the pace, to stop thinking and concentrate on the physical friction of muscle against muscle, but his breath hardly hiked. Jenova cells, inside his body, inside his veins.


	32. Monster

  1. Monster



 

_“I was in the mud, I was in the dirt,_

_Went underground and I found what I was worth_

_All alone and I know I can’t stay_

_But we’re walking up and down the streets to stay awake_

_Come up for air –”_

From _Miracle Mile_ by _Cold War Kids_

\- L.

 Cid realized that he had been missing home only when he returned to it. It might’ve been the smell of the air. Maybe it was no different from anywhere else in the mid-continent, but it _felt_ different, Cid told himself. Rocket Town had ancient pine trees that had their backs bowed and heads up. Rocket Town had ivy vines reaching hungrily towards each other, like a worshipper to a goddess, enveloping the great Rocket that had come to define the town. It had moss growing out of rocks and dew on the grass blades in the clearest of mornings. Cid realized that he’d been studiously piling up those memories, one by one, with every day he lived here. It would’ve embarrassed him if anyone ever found out how bloody _sentimental_ he was getting inside, but as long as it was inside he didn’t mind. It felt safe, like the pumpkin pound cakes that Shera would sometimes bake.

 Shera, Cid remembered, would still be working on the Rocket. Or maybe knitting, or baking, or talking to the trees again. He made a point not to ask about her as they went around the town gathering information.

 “Captain Cid!” Dianna, an elderly woman who ran the only grocery store in town, greeted him. “Shera’s been worried sick about you, hasn’t she?”

 “That’s great, Dianna.” Cid grunted. It seemed like everyone else had made a point to talk about Shera as soon as he opened his mouth. Barret nudged him, grinning like a fool. Cid wondered why he had to be paired with Barret, of all people. At the time Cloud had sounded like he knew what he was doing (like he usually did), so he hadn’t had the mind to question it. Cid wondered how much of that self-assurance was real and how much was just leftover from the days pretending to be someone else. Sometimes he felt sad for him, when he remembered that the lad was only twenty one.

 “There’s nothing great about it,” Dianna pouted.

 “Of course not. Listen, have you heard… do you know anything about what Shinra’s doing?” Cid asked without much hope. It seemed like no one even knew that Shinra was in the town. Those crafty bastards. Dianna’s expression was odd, though. Cid clung to it, a sudden hope, spiced with anxiety.

 “I shouldn’t, he said I shouldn’t…” Dianna mumbled. Barret’s eyes narrowed, but Cid held him back with a hand on his machine arm.

 “Dianna, I’m just tryin’ to help. You know I wouldn’t do anything to hurt this town.”

 “But you left, Captain Cid.” If there was reproach in Dianna’s voice, it was quiet and all the more numbing for that. Cid sighed.

 “Yeah, I know. But I was always gonna come back. I was just so angry.”

 Dianna just looked at him for a moment. The other customers were far enough away, but she glanced at them anyway.

 “Well, Jamie dropped by yesterday… said he had business.”

 “Lad’s been fond of you, like you were his grandmother.” Cid encouraged. Dianna’s face lit up, something like pride softening the lines of her face.

 “And I think of him as my grandson, too. Anyway he… he said I shouldn’t tell anyone about this. Not even you, Captain Cid.” Dianna’s eyes grew cautious.

 “Why’s that?”

 “He says he’s been ordered.”

 “By the Shinra.” Cid said, just to make sure. Dianna nodded heavily. “Where is he, Dianna?”

 For a moment he thought she wasn’t going to answer – but then something in Cid’s eyes must have spoken desperation, some kind of sincerity. She observed him a long while, before slowly drawing out the words.

 “You’ve changed, Captain Cid. You were like those tall trees, before.” Before Cid could ask her what she meant, Dianna continued. “Jamie’s in your Rocket and working on it. He says he’s gonna fire it away to the space.”

 She looked at him like she was sorry, but Cid wasn’t there long enough to be sure. He thought he managed a choking thanks before he left the store, but couldn’t really remember. He was running, Barret close behind. He had often thought, in moments of inebriated pride, that the Rocket stood like a god. Today it looked like a guillotine in the middle of a bloody revolution.

\- L.

 Sneaking up to the infantrymen guarding the Rocket was easy. There weren’t that many, to begin with. Cloud supposed that the Shinra wouldn’t have expected them to follow them _here_. It was true that they wouldn’t have thought to come if Reno hadn’t given them a lead.

 They reached the inner door directly leading to the control room without much difficulty. The corridor was empty and only half-painted. There was no one guarding the door. Cid picked up his pace without even seeming to realize it, like he was being driven towards something like a second heart.

Cloud and Vincent matched the speed easily. Only the three of them had come inside; infiltration was harder with many people. Vincent looked uneasy, probably because it was too easy. Cloud thought so, anyway. He felt his nerves raw like frayed ends of a dynamite coil. He wondered if he’d spent too much time at war. Cid, for one, didn’t seem too bothered by the quiet and strode into the control room like he belonged. Perhaps that was why no one made to stop him. Four, five pairs of surprised eyes met them as they all looked up from their respective stations. Recognition settled in and someone gasped, breaking the silence.

 “Captain Cid!”

 “Captain, what are you doing here?”

 “How long has it been?”

 “Alright, alright, lads. Good to see you too.” Cid grumbled, as he usually did, but there was a beginning of a fond chuckle hanging at the end. “I came to check if you lot weren’t messin’ too much with my gears, that’s what.” Cid said smoothly.

 “Oh, nobody even wanted to go near your gears for a while,” a young man with burgundy-hued eyes said with an exaggerated shudder.

 “Yeah, alright, Jamie. So how’s… how’s it going?” Cid shrugged in the general direction of the work as if he knew exactly what it was they were doing.

 “I don’t know if I should…” Jamie’s eyes flickered warily. Cloud realized that he was looking at him and Vincent, who were lurking behind Cid trying to pass as shadows. Cloud looked at Cid, at a loss, but that seemed to give him an inspiration. Cid looked back at Jamie and shrugged nonchalantly.

 “They got clearance, don’t worry. In fact, we’ve come here to take over.”

 “Take over, Captain?” said another man behind Jamie. He looked confused, this obviously going against their previous orders.

 “Look, no offense, but these two are probably the best mechanics in the land. And we need all the professional help we can get for this project, right?” Cid said. Cloud tried his best to look professional and confident.

 “It’s just that,” Jamie looked pained. “There were rumors… I mean, obviously no one knew for sure but they said… you were running around with…”

 “Rebels. A SOLDIER gone rogue and everything,” the other man finished.

 “Yeah, and terrorists. _AVALANCHE._ ” Jamie nodded fervently. He seemed to be waiting for Cid to deny it, and that was probably what saved them; Cid hesitated long enough for it to look suspicious to searching eyes, except Jamie wasn’t looking for guilt.

 “What gave you _that_ idea?” Cid managed to snort incredulously. Jamie looked relieved. “I mean… look at him, he look like a SOLDIER to you?”

 Cloud frowned; Cid was pointing a finger at him. He didn’t like that the men nodded and looked convinced, but kept his mouth shut.

 “Well, okay, I mean, it’s a big project and all. We’re almost finished, though.” Jamie said.

 “Oh yeah?” Cid tried to sound informed. “No, I know, we’re just checking up and… you know, last touch.”

 Jamie just nodded contentedly without offering anything further. Cloud started to get anxious that they wouldn’t find out what was going on. He met Cid’s eyes, only to find that Cid was also lost on what to do. Vincent was leaning against the door like he was interested in nothing but the patterns on the opposite wall. The mechanics were already starting to pack up. Cloud cleared his throat.

 “We didn’t mean to steal your work,” he said. Jamie looked up, as if he was startled to hear Cloud talking. Cloud studied his expression change from surprised to resigned, but not without a glint of pride.

 “Yeah, well, it’s good to know we had a part.”

 Cloud was getting frustrated. He wished Jamie was more like Barret, who would’ve told them everything without a prompt.

 “It’s a great accomplishment for Shinra, of course,” he tried again. Now Jamie was looking at him strangely.

 “Yeah… I mean, of course, but not just for Shinra.”

 “Obviously. Because if it works out…” Cloud left the sentence hanging.

 “We will have saved the world,” Jamie said, taking the bait. Cloud wanted to say something but couldn’t think of anything to say. Suddenly his throat felt tight. The weight of the words seemed almost corporeal, hanging from the particles in the air. It crushed him like giant pillars of sand, raining down in a big landslide. He found himself wishing that Jamie was right. Tempted to just turn his head and believe that the Shinra might, so Cloud wouldn’t have to do it.

The feeling passed quickly, but it still left blank seconds filled with so much feeling; regret and fear, mostly. When Cloud came to focus on the present again, Vincent was looking at him like he could see through everything and Jamie was telling something to Cid.

 “ … all in place. So are the Huge Materia. Safe in the boiler room and everything. You’d probably want to double-check but I think the only thing left is the auto pilot, which short-circuited a while ago. Shera’s been fixing it.” Jamie hesitated. “You don’t wanna still be here when the timer kicks in.”

 “Why?” Cid asked seemingly without thinking. He looked dazed. Cloud wondered if it was Shera’s name, like opening a jar of apple jam and that afternoon sun from childhood coming back to life. Thankfully, Jamie seemed to think Cid was joking.

 “Well, obviously, if you don’t want to ram in the Meteor and explode along with the Materia and the Rocket.” He laughed, good-naturedly.

\- L.

 Cid watched the last one go with some kind of regret. It felt like watching yourself die. For an inexplicable second he felt the trees and the moss like they were a part of him. The last lad was a new member of the team, a young blond boy who seemed to fear Cid (what kind of stories had they been telling him?) and closed the hatch without looking back. Cid wondered if that was how Cloud would have looked like years ago.

 “Cid,” Cloud called from behind. Cid blinked and turned his head, pretending that there hadn’t been a drift. If Cloud had noticed his wandering thoughts, he didn’t say anything. “It looks like we don’t have much time, then. Where should we go?”

 For a moment Cid didn’t know why Cloud was asking. He felt the recently discarded feeling rise in his throat again, the burden of responsibility and deciding which parts of the Planet could count as acceptable losses. Collaterals. Then he remembered – it was _his_ ship. His dream. No one knew better.

 “The engine room, that’s where they would have the Materia.” Cid said. “And we got plenty o’ time. If it’s Shera working on the auto-pilot.”

 Cloud looked doubtful, and a little amused too. “Okay. Lead the way.” He stood aside.

Cid stepped past Cloud and was descending the first step down to the engine room when the entire ship began to rumble.

 He felt the air escape his lungs as he fell too fast for it to catch up. His knee hit the stairs and pain like electricity shot through his body.

 “What’s happening?” Cloud yelled. Cid saw through the corner of his eyes Vincent’s red cloak swishing about like a frantic butterfly. As if as an answer, the speakers began to gurgle out voices that were hard to recognize as either male or female. Even through the rumbles, though, its meaning was clear enough. Or maybe Cid was just too familiar with this feeling, of something very heavy pushing down on his head. Like how earthworms must feel when a careless stranger steps on it and shrieks, _it’s disgusting_. _It’s –_

 “We’re going into space.” Cid said just as he felt the first real pull. Gravity fighting against time and speed, air particles blindly stuffing themselves into his lungs in panic only to stampede out again. Cid held onto the railings hard, hoping it might be a splint to save his life. He knew how it went from the simulations he did over and over. One wrong pressure point, and…

 And then it was over. A sensor beeped, informing them that gravity had been restored. Cid let out a shaky breath that sounded more like laughter. He looked over to where Cloud and Vincent stood, similarly dazed but otherwise unaffected by the gravitational forces that almost tore Cid apart limb by limb.

 “Oh now, that just ain’t fair.” He complained, but without real feeling. Because it suddenly hit him – all it took was an accidental glance toward the window through which the top of a chapel had stood just a moment ago. Now it was – Cid couldn’t find a color to describe it. Black would be too simple. It was a complicated temple of matter and emptiness and light and the absence of it.

 It was space. He was in space.

 “I’m in space.”

 “What?” Cloud wheeled around to where Cid’s eyes lingered like a kid’s fixated on an ice cream stand. He couldn’t see Cloud’s expression, but the stiff lines of his shoulders and voice made it clear that he wasn’t as excited as Cid about this. Oh, and maybe Cid shouldn’t be, either, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that right now.

 “Oh, we’re in space.” Cloud said. Vincent looked equally gloomy. Cid looked at them both, at Vincent’s funereal face and Cloud’s silent sigh, and didn’t understand.

 “Lads,” Cid cleared his throat. “We’re in _space_.” Just in case they missed it. Apparently they hadn’t. They just didn’t – see the point of it. What was so, _they were in space_ , exciting about it. It was just another obstacle to overcome in their grand quest for world peace. Usually Cid was all about overcoming obstacles. He also happened to believe that the world could do without total annihilation by a madman.

 But what did it matter now – he was in _space_.

 He supposed that if a bird flew high enough, without burning up by the sun, to perch on the tip of a crescent moon, it might feel as he did. For there was no place higher. No sights it hadn’t seen. If the world was to end, and he was looking at the stars when it burst into flames – he didn’t know how to die better. Among the stars; maybe his ashes will fly up and melt into a star billions and billions of light years away. Cid almost felt content at this thought. He wasn’t scared of death.

 And neither, it seemed, was Cloud.

 “If I take the Materia and jump out the airlock,” Cloud was saying, “Wouldn’t that stop the explosion?”

 “The Rocket would still crash into the Meteor and blow up.” Vincent said matter-of-factly. “But yes, it would cause far less damage.”

 “But then you two will die in the process, blow up with it.” Cloud said it like a report.

 “And you would die in space clutching the Huge Materia.” Vincent answered. Cloud fell silent.

 “I wonder if Barret can fly the Highwind,” he finally said.

 And that, of all things, woke Cid up like a splash of ice water in middle of January. Because he was fine with dying among the stars if he had to, but if there was no world then there would be no ice, nor water, nor January. Obviously Cloud wasn’t giving up and that was saying something, because that kid was messed in the head like you wouldn’t believe.

 Most of all, Cid would not have that idiot Barret touch the Highwind.

 He shook himself awake, physically shrugging off an invisible weight from his shoulders. He looked at the time beeping on the screen and cursed himself for letting himself wander like that. There was a reason he didn’t do sentimental.

 Cloud and Vincent were still talking when Cid cleared his throat.

 “Couldn’t you just fling the Materia out?” Vincent was asking.

 “It’s probably programmed to explode if nothing’s touching it. That’s how we – I mean, the SOLDIERS – usually did it.” Cloud shrugged. “Like a self-destruct, or a bomb.”

 “Lads,” Cid felt this was a good time to interrupt. Cloud looked at him with a flash of hope that was gone too soon to leave a print. Cid felt almost guilty, as if he was responsible for that look. For its ephemerality. “We’ve got escape pods.” He told them. Vincent lifted his eyebrows and Cloud’s eyes widened.

 “Why didn’t you tell us before?” He said, but didn’t wait for Cid’s reply. In a flash, he was running down to the engine room. Vincent glanced at Cid and followed Cloud soundlessly. Cid flinched, somehow feeling that Vincent knew the reason he didn’t tell them sooner. Now that the moment had passed, he was almost embarrassed for it. Almost.

 Before he followed them down the stairs, Cid threw one last look out the window. He’d imagined being in space so many times. The volatile darkness outside looked just like his imagination. And maybe that was all this was – an imagination, too.

\- L.

 The engine room was stuffy. The machinery kept pumping out heat, a continuous noise that ended where another began. Chiming, horrible and disconcerted, of metal against metal and heat against solid air. The Huge Materia sat in the middle of the room on some kind of an altar. The machines were a cacophony of chaotic screaming. Something shrieked, a keen sound that halted Cid mid-track. Cloud looked back, alarmed.

 “What is it?”

 “I think… nevermind, just hurry up.” Cid looked uneasy. Cloud didn’t argue. Beads of sweat were starting to form across his forehead. The air smelled burnt.

 “It’s protected by a passcode.” Vincent – who’d scouted ahead, not a hint of a flush on his skin – called above the noise. Cloud heard Cid curse behind him. He wasn’t too surprised, though, and the heavy feeling in his chest was also getting to be familiar. Of course there would be a passcode.

 “Any ideas, Cid?”

 “Not a damn one. Except… try my old code. Back when I was still in the team.”

 Cloud moved away. Cid’s fingers dashed across the number pad, practiced and easy. The machine beeped red. The Materia remained shielded in the transparent cage that looked like glass. Only, Cloud knew it was Mako-enhanced. He knew that even Zack hadn’t been able to break out of it.

 The air was getting thick, like metal, like it was trying to push them all out of the room. A spark exploded faintly somewhere to Cloud’s left. Friction of heavy air against other heavy gas, growling and screaming. It reminded him of Reno’s white rod. The one that buzzed electricity and looked too innocent to be so deadly. And then – Cloud couldn’t believe his luck. He didn’t have to. Maybe it wasn’t fate or luck or anything, just the truth, maybe some kind of justice.

 “20439.” He said to Cid. Cid looked at him, startled, but then punched in the numbers without saying anything. The glass slid open smoothly. Cloud unlocked the metal straps around the Materia and held it against his chest. The swirling light inside was beautiful green like life. It seemed to feel his heartbeats and hummed silently. Cid and Vincent, too, stared at it transfixed.

 That was when one of the engines exploded with a disfigured hiss. The air sparkled white, and then the thickest red Cloud had ever known. He barely made out Cid’s outline making his way to the heat. He wanted to yell, _stop, you’ll get yourself killed_ , but it felt like a joke, yelling to a man who was in space. Then the hissing stopped. The air didn’t clear immediately, but the particles subsided into a slow whirl instead. Cloud coughed out the red and searched for Cid’s back. Cid was holding the lever down. Sweat slid down his bare arm.

 “Cid, you okay?” Cloud called, voice coming out thick.

 “It’s the Mako stabilizer. Went berserk when it lost its purpose. Should’ve guessed.” Cid’s voice was also tangled with the red fume.

 “It’s not your fault.” Cloud muttered. “How did you stop it?”

 “This lever, it holds it back … as long as I hold it down.” There was a certain kind of levity in his voice. Cloud suddenly saw what he meant when he said, _we’re in space_ , that silent wonder. Something stuck in his throat. It tasted like fear.

 “What do you mean?” He took a step forward. The fog was still red, alarm soundlessly flashing from somewhere. All he saw of Cid was his back and his arm, still gripping the lever tight.

 “It means, the second I let go this thing’s gonna blow. You gotta go, Cloud.”

 “But…” Cloud felt a rise of panic. This was familiar, too familiar. He didn’t know what sacrifices were for, when all you were fighting for was what had be sacrificed anyway.

 “This is the end for me.” Cid said. “And honestly, lad, I’m okay with that.” He chuckled. Cloud didn’t know what to say, and stood rooted to the spot.

 “We don’t have a lot of time, so just…”

 “You go.” Suddenly a deep voice, coming out of nowhere, shoved Cid out of the way. Vincent was there the next blink and it was no longer Cid’s hands pushing down the lever but Vincent’s. Cid looked at him blankly, opened his mouth to protest. His palms were red from gripping the lever so tightly.

 “Hey, this is _my_ _…_ ”

 Vincent cut him off with a look before Cid could finish. His glance wasn’t exactly cold, but measured like a man preparing for battle. Something clicked in his mind. Vincent was looking – Cloud realized that he had never seen Vincent afraid before.

 “Vincent.” He called his name for the lack of a better thing to do. Vincent met his gaze, held it steadily. He wasn’t sweating even though the heat had become unbearable in the room. It felt like the air might catch fire on its own.

 “Cloud, there’s something… I haven’t told you. About me.”

 “What…”

 “You go, I’ll be fine.” Vincent said. Before Cloud could ask again, the ship shook again and Vincent glanced at the ceiling regretfully. He took off his metal gauntlet.

Vincent always wore a shiny metal gauntlet on his left arm that reached to his forearm. It looked like any other gauntlet, except for the fingers that were shaped longer, like claws. Now Cloud knew why he never took it off – not even when he was sleeping. Underneath, it wasn’t normal flesh but something else. Darkness, something horribly malicious. Cloud watched as the darkness with no real borders convulsed violently and formed into long claws that matched the shape of the gauntlet. It then started travelling up his arms, leaving mutation in its wake. Its form was never fixed, though. All the while it squirmed and spat and roared. Vincent looked slightly sickened, but he wasn’t looking at his, _transformation_ – that was slowly turning his body into something dark and twisted, horribly mutated – he was looking at Cloud.

 “Go.” He said, and his voice had changed. The battered red cloak was becoming a battered half-wing, dripping red like blood and torn in places. The ship shook, the timer was beeping red. Cloud grabbed Cid and started running.

 Just as he was about to leave, he turned suddenly. Only half of Vincent’s face remained. The crimson of his left eye was enveloped in gray, maybe black, hard skin. He was still watching.

 “See you back on the Planet, Vincent.” Cloud said.

 He didn’t look back this time. Cid didn’t speak a word until they reached the emergency pods. They buckled themselves and flung the vessels into space. The Rocket exploded behind them.

\- L.

 It turned out Barret actually _could_ fly the Highwind, much to Cid’s dismay. The ship was waiting for them in a clearing in the woods where they landed. Barret grinned proudly.

 “We were watchin’. We knew y’all were up there. For a while we were worried…”

 “But we knew you’d make it. Where’s Vince?” Yuffie chimed in. Cloud coughed out smoke from his lungs.

 “I’m here.” Vincent’s voice came from behind. Cloud whipped around to find him walk calmly out of the woods, the faded gold of his gauntlet secure on his left hand. Their eyes met and Cloud didn’t say anything. Vincent was soon distracted by Yuffie’s fussing, and Tifa was frowning up at Cloud.

 “Are you okay?”

 “Yeah.” Cloud said. He didn’t tell her how he’d been thinking about dying with the stars and how it wasn’t such a bad way to go. “I got the Materia.” He suddenly remembered.

 “We figured. There ain’t a scratch on the Meteor, although the Rocket broke into pieces like firework.” Barret said.

 “I wonder if we did the right thing.” Cid suddenly said. He looked kind of struck, by something more than the sunlight as he stood watching the sky with narrowed eyes. Ashes and dried sweat and gray soot still clung to him.

 “Whacha mean by that?” Barret asked.

 “I mean, Shinra was just tryin’ their best. Tryin’ to save half the Planet. It was their only shot and we blew it. What if we just destroyed the half that they were tryin’ to save? What if we destroyed our Planet?”

 “And what if we didn’t.” Yuffie said furiously. Her face was scrunched up in something like pride. “What if we saved everybody?”

 “Well, we don’t know, do we.” Cid grumbled.

 “Exactly,” Tifa said. She met Cid’s gaze steadily. At that moment, the amber in her eyes looked as soft as Aerith’s shimmering green – both something of a forest, the leaves and the soil. Then he suddenly found himself wondering what Aerith would have said. What she would have done. He felt that somehow she would have known exactly what to do. He had to remind himself that she was only a girl, as lost as he was sometimes. Not always, but sometimes.

 “Awright, you lot. Back to the Highwind.” Barret said, clapping Cloud on the back. His entire body shook with his voice.

 “It’s my ship –” Cid started to complain.

 “Where’re we going then?” Yuffie asked. She was frowning at Barret, who looked at Cid, who looked at Cloud. Cloud opened his mouth hesitantly but nothing came out. Suddenly everybody was looking at him. Even the trees, the muted engine of the Highwind. He wished they were here. Aerith and Zack – they would have been so much better. He felt the wind slow down to hear what he had to say. Which was nothing – he didn’t know.

 It was Nanaki who saved him.

 “If I may say something, Cloud.” The soft purr of his voice chased the wind away. Cloud breathed out the air he’d been holding.

 “Yeah?”

 “Where science failed, magic might yet succeed.”

 “Magic?” Cid contorted his face in distrust.

 “You mean, your grandfather?” Tifa asked. Cloud remembered the white of his beard, the things he spoke like a puzzle. The cry of the Planet.

 “Yes. I think he might be able to help.”

 “Well? What do you think, Cloud?” Barret turned to Cloud. He nodded, faking nonchalance.

“I think we should head to Cosmo Canyon.”

 “Cosmo Canyon it is. Get on board! I gotta see how much damage Barret’s done to my ship.” Cid said, jumping through the hatch and disappearing into the ship. Barret followed close behind, complaining loudly.

 “I haven’t done _any_ damage! Yer just jealous ‘cause I’m a natural…”

 Yuffie and Nanaki walked in after them. Tifa turned halfway up and looked back at him. Cloud was about to step in when there was a hand on his arm. He turned to find Vincent, the crimson of his eyes dancing uneasily.

 “Cloud, can I talk to you for a moment?” He said. Cloud glanced at Tifa, who nodded and walked inside. It was just the two of them left. Surrounded by thick, curvy trees of Rocket Town that looked too attentive for Cloud’s liking.

 “Back in the Rocket,” Vincent started. Cloud realized he hadn’t really seen Vincent hesitant before, either. He’d have thought it’d be more unnerving. “I… there is, I mean, it’s…”

 “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” Cloud said. Vincent shook his head slowly.

 “I want you to know. It’s just, it’s a part of me that I’m not…”

 “Proud of?” Cloud suggested. Vincent looked at him a moment, then nodded. Suddenly he looked so much older than he’d seemed, closer to fifty or sixty years – maybe more.

 “It’s okay. I have something… you already know what I have.” Cloud said.

 “It’s different with you.” Vincent shook his head again. Cloud would have chuckled; dark humor that masked itself with sarcasm. He remembered he used to be so good at sarcasm.

 “What, being Sephiroth’s puppet? Whatever it is that you… well, it’s not so different.”

 “It’s Chaos.” Vincent said suddenly.

 “Chaos. That’s –”

 “What I turned into. What I… am. It’s horrid.” He laughed without humor, a dark sound so bitterly twisted that Cloud flinched.

 “You don’t look like it right now.” Cloud said. Vincent held up his hand, the one clad in the metal gauntlet. Cloud remembered the darkness beneath.

 “Usually I can hold it back. It used to be… I’ve had a lot of practice.”

 “So it’s okay, then.”

 “How can it be okay? I’m a monster.” Vincent turned his body half away from him, the cloak flapping like wings – they were, Cloud remembered. They’d dripped blood. And yet –

 “But you saved us. We would’ve died. You’re fighting with us. How can you be a monster?” He took a deep breath. The air he breathed was clear, not red. “You’re not a monster, Vincent. But I know how you feel.”

 “You feel the same way?” Vincent looked at him quizzically, almost hopefully. Cloud tried to smile.

 “Yeah, I do. I didn’t have a mind for a long time. I almost killed Aerith. I almost killed… all of you.”

 “But that wasn’t your fault.”

 “So is it your fault, then? The way you are?”

 “Maybe. It is my sin.”

 Cloud shook his head. “It was Hojo, wasn’t it?”

 Vincent looked at him for a long time. It wasn’t exactly mistrust in his eyes but something deeper, maybe fear.

 “The place we found you. It’s the same place that I – we, Zack and me – were experimented on. Hojo’s lab.” Cloud explained. “He used to do all sorts of experiments. To make stronger SOLDIERs, stronger warriors.”

 “I can’t always control it.” Vincent said softly. “Sometimes it speaks to my mind… Sometimes I see it in the mirror.”

 “You’re not a monster, Vincent.”

 “Sometimes I see it in the mirror.” Vincent repeated, like he hadn’t heard Cloud at all. The wind rustled their hair. Cid yelled at them to get a move on. Cloud took a breath.

 “Sometimes I do, too.” He said.


	33. Crystal Sleep

  1. Crystal Sleep



 

Vincent thought that the air tasted of hope and dread, equally mixed. It was hard to tell which people were hopeful and which depressed; they seemed to be doing both at the same time.

 The town was called Aerba. The stack of food from Mideel was getting thinner, and Cloud had suggested a stop to gather more food, maybe see what Shinra was up to. Rumor was spreading of a terrorist group – Cid told him ruefully – better not travel all together.

 Chaos was not entirely stable yet. Vincent couldn’t trust himself with anyone else, couldn’t trust himself to be alone in the ship.

 “I know the feeling.” Cloud said, easily, as they made their way deeper into the town. Their job was to gather information on Shinra. Or at least Vincent thought he said it easily, couldn’t really tell with Cloud. He didn’t seem too distressed, in any case; picked up a ball that came rolling to his feet and threw it to the young boys nearby, who yelled thanks. Vincent waited until the laughter of the boys turned the corner.

 “You sound like you know what you’re talking about,” he said to Cloud; didn’t really know why, but he said it anyway. Cloud raised his eyebrows like he’d heard something funny.

 “Well, that’s good.”

 Not a lot of words passed between them. Cloud was not talkative, and Vincent had never trusted words anyway. Even back when he was mortal, and things like love and words mattered.

 The pub was full of people, even though the day was still young. People must have abandoned work – but then, Vincent supposed, things like work didn’t matter much at the end of the world. Words did. The small television in the center of the pub was fixed on the news channel. People were staring at it like it was their life flashing before their eyes. Few glanced their way when Cloud and Vincent walked through the door. They had come for the television. They were just in time to catch the end of a speech, Rufus appearing confidently and at ease. He was different from his father. People liked him because he had sleek blonde hair and immaculate white suits, blue eyes that were not hidden by layers of chubby flesh. Like a prince, that they might have had.

 “ … I want the people to rest assured. The Shinra is doing its best to take care of this problem.”

 “Mr. President, the plan to bomb the Meteor with Huge Materia. Some people say it’s that terrorist group, AVALANCHE, who wrecked it. Is that true?”

 “Well, nothing’s confirmed.”

Rufus shrugged off the question smoothly. Vincent wondered why he wasn’t blaming everything on AVALANCHE and be done with it. It was hard to tell what the young President was thinking – not that Vincent was good at reading people in the first place. The reporter kept talking.

 “What’s your next plan of action, then? Are there more Huge Materia?”

 “No, and in any case, that Rocket was the only one we had. What’s our next plan… well, suffice to say, we’re going straight for the heart of the problem.”

 “Sephiroth? Do you mean Sephiroth, sir?”

There was a murmur in the pub, at the excitement in the faceless reporter’s voice. More than excitement. Something that Vincent was familiar with – bloodthirst. He felt the inside of his arm tingle.

 “He _is_ the cause of this whole problem. If we eliminate him, it might just solve everything.”

 “Does that mean you’re dispatching the SOLDIERS?”

 “Quite right. We’re declaring a war, one man against the entire Planet. SOLDIERS are gathering forces in Midgar as we speak… And they will blast the ridiculous barrier that Sephiroth has been protecting himself with, at the Northern Crater.”

Here Rufus took a breath and looked squarely at the camera, so that he gave the impression of looking at the people in the eyes. The pub hushed in silence and awe.

 “Believe in us. We will win this war.”

The transmission ended there and the screen turned to a soft drink advertisement. The barman poured them a drink each.

 “On the house,” he told them. Vincent had never been enthusiastic about alcohol, but he took a sip anyway. It was a clear liquid that might have been golden in a better light. It tasted bitter, strong and simple. Cloud was looking at it strangely.

 “Nibel Dews?” He asked. The barman nodded, something like a reminiscent smile at his lips. “Or something close, anyway. The real stuff got burned with that town.”

 “Yeah.” Cloud drank the glass in one gulp. His brows creased. Vincent imagined it might have felt like gulping down a ball of fire. The man was now eyeing him curiously.

 “Say, you’re not from Nibelheim?”

 “No,” Cloud lied. Vincent didn’t ask why. He took another sip from his glass, suddenly wishing that he’d known the taste back when it could still affect him. He had a vague curiosity about being drunk – the oblivion people sought. It might be nice.

 “Oh.” The barman looked disappointed. “So, what’re you boys supposed to be, then? Not from around here, are you?”

 “No, we’re…” Cloud glanced at Vincent. “We’re mercenaries.”

 “Yeah?” The barman startled, a look of slight admiration in his eyes. Vincent took another sip. It tasted less bitter now, more fluid. “So you guys working now?”

 “It depends. Why?”

 “Well, there’s this cave, just at the edge of the town. It’s… strange. Once in a while there is a weird glow from the inside, and these noises… Sometimes people go missing. It’s been a real pain.”

 Vincent would have thought that strange caves would cease to matter when a Meteor was about to fall; maybe this man just didn’t believe that the world might actually end.

 “You want us to go check it out?” Cloud asked. The barman nodded, pouring him another glass of that strong, clear liquid, maybe to bribe him.

 “I mean, I don’t really know the exchange rate for mercenaries and all. And this is a town problem, so you really ought to go to the mayor for the pay…”

 “Well,” Cloud paused only to empty the second glass, just as quickly. Vincent wondered if Cloud actually enjoyed drinking or if he was looking for oblivion as well. He would have to look very long, then. The Mako in their blood made it very hard for SOLDIERS to get drunk. “Okay. We’ll look into it.”

 The barman poured him a third glass. Cloud emptied that as well. It occurred to Vincent that he might be drinking memories.

\- L.

 “Why did you say we were mercenaries?” Vincent asked. Outside, the sun had slipped a little bit more to the west. It was still light and the air was very dry.

 “I don’t know. Spur of the moment thing. I just remembered a friend saying that.” Cloud shrugged. Vincent considered the word _friend._

 “Why’d you say we would look into it?” He asked a bit later. Cloud shrugged again.

 “I guess… I don’t know, I thought it was kind of funny he was worrying about a glowing cave during the apocalypse.” He wasn’t exactly drunk – it would take a lot more than three glasses – but Vincent noted that he did walk a little bit faster than usual, like it slipped his mind to slow down like he usually did, for the benefit of others.

“I was thinking that, too.” Vincent muttered. They had time, anyway. Vincent didn’t have a lot of faith in Nanaki’s grandfather; in magic, generally.

 Vincent did not believe in magic, so it came as a shock when it hit him – right in front of the cave. It looked like a normal cave. Nothing unnatural was glowing. Yet the feeling – something very familiar, something that Vincent didn’t know the name to. Maybe it was premonition.

 “What?” Cloud turned around when he noticed Vincent had stopped a step or two from the entrance. The forest surrounding the cave was eerily silent. No animals wandered about.

 “Just this feeling.” Vincent murmured. He swept past Cloud before he could answer. There was something inside. Something that might be calling to him. It was unpleasant to recognize that, and Vincent almost turned around but made himself walk on. Maybe it was the tiny trace of alcohol in his system. He heard Cloud follow behind him only distantly, and walked through the bumpy darkness almost as if he were entranced. The narrow path curved and curved until he felt like he must be in the place he started, then – a wide opening, and he was suddenly standing in an oval-shaped space.

In the middle was a large crystal, almost as large as himself. It was there unnaturally, embedded in the stone wall but seeming to fight against it. Vincent took a hesitant step forward. That was when it started glowing, the crystal, an eerie light that had scared the townspeople. It was so strong that Vincent had to shield his eyes. When he forced them open again he saw – there was a person inside that crystal, and she saw him too – he knew who had been calling.

 “Lucrecia.”

 The past came crashing down like a force from hell.

\- L.

 The first time he meets her.

\- L.

 The first time he meets her she introduces herself as Lucrecia Crescent, and is surprised when he tells her his name. She does not tell him why, though. She only smiles and distracts Vincent with it – like some kind of a weapon. Vincent thinks her eyelashes are especially long, dropping shadows on her cheeks in the bright light of the laboratory, where she works day and night. Vincent mostly just watches. That is his job. He has been sent by the head of the Turks to supervise the three scientists on a top-secret, important mission that they won’t tell him about. He is supposed to watch all three of them, but he mostly watches Lucrecia. She has her long brown hair tied in a ponytail. Sometimes she wears a yellow hair band, and over time Vincent can accurately predict when she’ll turn up wearing it. Those are the days that she gets off early and stops in the hallway to chat with him. He knows because he’s memorized the schedules – he is required to – and because he only wears his best tie on those days too (the crimson one that is soft like silk. One day Lucrecia tells him it brings out a reddish tint in his dark brown eyes, and he saves it only for those days with the yellow hair band). One day Lucrecia asks him if he has plans for the weekend.

 No, not really.

 Well, it’s the first weekend off in a million years. Aren’t you going somewhere? Back to Midgar, maybe?

 Why would I go back to Midgar?

 Maybe you left something there. Someone.

 No. Vincent says simply. Lucrecia breaks into a laughter that rings across the hallway, bounces and dances in the light.

 See, that’s what I like about you, she smiles. Before he can ask her what she means, she is glowing again. Do you want to, I don’t know, go out to the town with me?

 And they do. She wears her hair down, and it flows like a cascade – the floral scent is intoxicating, almost. The town is very small and there isn’t much to do. The people are nice, though, and they sit in the sun drinking wines that the villagers have given them. Well, Lucrecia drinks and he doesn’t. He watches her sip a clear, gold liquid and feels content.

 I feel happy, Vincent tells her. Lucrecia looks at him with surprised eyes. After a while she smiles, but there is something sad about it too. Like maybe she knows the ending to this story.

 Me too, she says. The sun makes them both dizzy and the day stays golden in his memory a long, long time.

\- L.

 The first time he loses her. It comes with a secret bunch of paper, a late night shift and a forgotten phone.

 Vincent goes back for his phone and all the offices are locked but one. He wanders into Lucrecia’s room without really thinking, without really looking for anything but instead he finds the truth. He wishes he’d never known. Lucrecia comes in at that moment because it’s her night shift, and freezes at the sight of those papers in Vincent’s hands.

 It’s okay, Vincent tries to tell her. It’s okay.

 How can it be okay? She cries. I might as well have killed your father.

 Why didn’t you tell me you’d been his assistant?

 Because I might as well have killed him. Tears run down her face and Vincent reaches out to soothe her, but she jerks away. There is terror in her eyes. Vincent tries to say, it’s okay, but her guilt won’t listen. Vincent doesn’t know the details of his father’s death. It might have been a lab accident, maybe an innocent mistake of his assistant. He can’t bring himself to care about it right now. Tears cling to her eyelashes and draw pretty patterns on her cheeks. He approaches and she lets him. At first. Then she says,

 He said to tell you that he’s sorry.

 In a whisper, and Vincent freezes. She looks at him as if to soak him also with her guilt, so they are dripping wet together, and runs off. Maybe that is how it starts, why Vincent can never really shake off the guilt for a long, long time. A part of it wasn’t even _his_ to begin with. But he bears it, like he bears many other things in life and death, but that’s the night she first goes to Hojo and he loses her the first time.

\- L.

 She looks happy with Hojo for a while. Vincent consoles himself that it is all he wants, if she is happy then so is he. He sees her with him sometimes, through the transparent wall of the laboratory, laughing at some jokes or new-born memories. She doesn’t wear the yellow hair band anymore. She treats him cordially, but avoids looking at his eyes. He realizes then it’s been guilt all along – the way she looked at him, the way she smiled like he mattered. He stumbles, falls, can’t get up. He gets up in the morning and goes to work. One day, he loses her the second time.

 He doesn’t know if Hojo has planned it all along. But when he offers her – Lucrecia – and the unborn baby as test subjects to something called the Jenova Project, there isn’t a trace of guilt on his face. Lucrecia first begs him not to, and Vincent overhears. He wishes he could stop – stop everything, stop the world from happening. He is powerless. She gives in eventually, and Vincent learns this too late. He stumbles in like he is drunk, accuses Hojo of sins, of the darkest sins. Hojo doesn’t even blink. He looks at Vincent like he can’t remember where he’s come from, like a stray fly – did he leave the window open? – and pulls out a gun. Before Vincent can say anything, Hojo shoots him and he’s dead. Vincent hopes Lucrecia doesn’t see his dead body, as he falls. It would only worsen her guilt and make it unbearable.

\- L.

 When he wakes up from death, it’s on an operating table. The walls are hazy, grayer and redder then he remembers. The air smells metallic, like blood. Something glistens on the table next to him and Vincent shields his eyes, frowning. He can’t figure out what’s going on – and then he sees. First he doesn’t recognize it, but there it is – the left hand that he’s used to shield the harsh, crimson light from the ceiling. It isn’t a hand anymore but an ugly mess of claws and mutations. Everything that Vincent is crashes uncontrollably, but he doesn’t scream. He can’t speak. He also doesn’t scream when he makes to get up and finds himself on the other side of the room before he can blink. Someone has taken his clothes and replaced it with something that looks beaten, straps of leather and buckles rusty and brown. A red cloak flutters behind him. Almost, almost as if it is an organic being, but he bites down the scream that is wriggling at his throat.

 It is when he finally looks at himself in the mirror that he lets it out. His scream pierce the air and shatters the mirror into a hundred pieces. A hundred sets of crimson eyes are staring at him now, bloodthirst and abomination and evil. His eyes.

\- L.

 Now she stares at him, she stared at him. Her eyes looked glossed through the almost-transparent crystal. Like a mirror, like a dream. Vincent stared back at her speechlessly. He did not know what to say. It was all his time in an instant. Vincent remembered watching her from afar, even after he’d changed. He’d never shown his face. There was guilt, of not being able to stop her or Hojo. And then there was another guilt, that it wasn’t guilt that stopped him from seeing her.

 She’d looked unhappy, in pain. Still he couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t even comfort her. He remembered praying to a God he’d forgotten long ago, but either He didn’t listen, or he didn’t deserve it. Lucrecia gave birth to a boy – infused with Mako from the womb. Hojo gave him the name Sephiroth.

 “I was dying,” she whispered.

  _I know_ , he didn’t say, because he could not tell her that he’d been watching. Not out of guilt.

 “Hojo put me in this… stasis. To sustain me. Ended up not killing me.” Her voice had a hollow quality, almost like a shadow, and Vincent stared at her transfixed. It wasn’t exactly as he remembered. Maybe it was the crystal cutting the air between them – it was funny, how he’d often imagined an invisible wall in the space between their words and polite avoidance – or maybe it was just his memory. Dignifying what it had, struggling to make meaning. Vincent nodded. She looked sad.

 “Funny, I’d have preferred dying. Now I can’t even,”

 She’d always had a way of not finishing the sentence, letting it hang. Fake smiles.

 “He came to visit a couple of times, then didn’t. Didn’t tell me about…” Her smile abruptly changed. It reminded him of golden hay, autumn days. She touched the edge of the crystal like it was just a glass door and not Mako-enhanced crystal. “You haven’t changed a bit, Vincent.”

 The way she said her name caught at his throat. He realized he hadn’t said anything except her name. He opened his mouth and forced out words.

 “I’ve been asleep for a long time. Like you.”

 “Your voice.” She closed her eyes, sighed. “Is just like his. Just the same.”

 “Whose?” Vincent tensed, feeling sad and tired all of a sudden.

 “Vincent.”

 “But I am. I’m Vincent.”

 “He’s the Turk who took care of us. He was Grimore Valentine’s son, though, and I killed the doctor. Might as well have.”

 “Lucrecia, I’m Vincent.”

 But she wasn’t listening. Her hands slipped from the crystal wall until only the tips of her fingers were touching it.

 “I let him die, like I let my son…” Her eyes flew open. “What happened to him? Sephiroth?”

 Vincent heard Cloud draw in a sharp breath and only remembered his presence then. Lucrecia’s hazy eyes shifted to him. “What happened?” She asked again.

 “He…” Cloud stuttered, his eyes wide.

 “He’s dead.” Vincent said. How could he tell her that her son had turned into a – Vincent turned back to Lucrecia. She looked peaceful, like she’d already forgotten the conversation. She was watching Vincent silently like observing the sky for rain.

 “Can’t we do something about the crystal? Couldn’t we get her out?” Vincent muttered without looking back. He didn’t want to see Cloud’s face. He heard him shifting his feet. Then a smooth slide of metal, a small screech. The whole time, Lucrecia was watching him and he couldn’t break out of her gaze.

 “It’s too powerful. My sword didn’t leave a scratch. Can’t you do something with your…” He didn’t finish his sentence. Vincent shook his head slowly.

 “Crystal is the manifestation of Cosmos.” Vincent said. “I can’t touch it.” His eyes travelled up the length of the crystal, which reached the ceiling and sat embedded there.

 “It’s better this way.” Lucrecia said suddenly. Vincent noticed that her voice sounded dimmer, a flicker of a dying candle. “Sephiroth is dangerous. He was born out of hate, not love. It’s better that he’s dead.”

 Vincent nodded stiffly. He supposed it was true. He understood why she chose to stay.

 “I just wanted to say, if I ever saw him again,” Lucrecia murmured. Her voice grew soft. Faded slowly into a crystallized silence. Vincent supposed she would sleep now, until she woke again. “That I loved him very much.”

 “Who?” Vincent asked, but she didn’t answer.

 

 


	34. Holy

  1. Holy



 

 Nanaki bounded across the empty square. Cosmo Canyon looked the same as ever; the same quietness, the same peace. The few people who passed them looked perfectly at peace, too. Cloud wondered if they knew that the outside world was coming to pieces. The air was thick with unperturbed calm. He thought maybe not.

 When he mentioned this to Bugenhagen, though, he only got a laugh.

“They know. How could they not? We see the Meteor even from here, in the deepest mountains.”

 “But they’re so, I dunno, calm.” Barret murmured. He squirmed in his seat like the calmness was giving him unpleasant pokes.

 “What else should we be?” Bugenhagen asked. Barret shrugged. “There is no use worrying. Sometimes there is nothing you can do.”

 “I remember that one,” Nanaki said suddenly. “Not Doing is as difficult as Doing.”

 “What?” Yuffie frowned. Cloud interrupted her argument before it began.

 “Is that what you’re going to tell us, too? That there’s nothing we can do?”

 Cid’s face got violent. He looked suspiciously at Bugenhagen, who was laughing again. His ancient, strong voice and laughter hadn’t changed. “You’ve changed,” he told Cloud. Cloud only shrugged. He suspected that the old man knew anyway.

 “So? Did we come all the way here for nothing?” Cid prompted. Bugenhagen shook his head slowly.

 “Nothing is for nothing. If you came here, then you must have had reason.”

 “We thought maybe you could… help with your magic.” Tifa said cautiously.

 “My magic?” Bugenhagen looked surprised. Cloud couldn’t help but feel something die in his chest, where a small hope used to be. He’d thought he was done hoping.

 “Because the humans did it their way. It didn’t work.” Nanaki said. He sounded a little impatient.

 “Or you made it not work.” Bugenhagen said calmly.

 “Are you sayin’ that we shouldn’t of… that what we did was wrong?” Barret interjected, looking angry. Bugenhagen didn’t answer this way or that. He picked up the cup of tea in front of him, still warm and smelling distantly sweet. Cloud looked at the cup in his hand but his had already lost all the warmth. Cosmo Canyon wasn’t as cold as Nibelheim, but still frost crowded in the corners of windows and the fireplace blew white steams across them.

 “But can you help us?” His voice sounded wrong. Bugenhagen looked at him like he was grieving someone’s death.

 “You’re lost, son.” Bugenhagen said, simply. Cloud couldn’t argue. “I can see… but it’s all inside you.”

 Cloud tried to speak, then tried again. “What? What’s inside me?”

 Bugenhagen didn’t answer that question. He didn’t speak for a long time, until even Vincent was raising his eyebrows. Barret looked about to explode, and Cid was staring murder at the irregular rhythm of the fire. When he finally spoke again, it was with an authority that they couldn’t refuse, but what he said was nothing special. Cloud could have told himself the same.  “When you’re lost, look inside yourself.”

 Cloud bit back a sigh, just as Cid exploded in a series of colorful curses. Bugenhagen patiently listened to Cid ramble on about lost time and the end of the world, stroking his white beard like there was nothing else he’d rather do. When Cid was out of curses and fume, Bugenhagen sent them away to meditate.

 “Come back in a few days,” he said cheerfully. Vincent was staring at the old man dubiously. Nanaki opened his mouth to protest, but Bugenhagen silenced him with a wave of his hand.

 “Take them to Pola, Nanaki, she’ll give them work to do. Sometimes the truth is only reached by going sideways.”

 Cloud wanted to argue, too. He wanted to talk about death and destruction and the debris of the Meteor raining on their heads and blood that was going to splatter everywhere. About madness, in Sephiroth’s eyes, and desperation. Lost memories and hopelessness. Stolen thoughts –

 But Bugenhagen seemed to know everything. He looked at Cloud like he knew, and all the words melted inside his mouth like the strawberry-flavored sweets he used to like as a child. He thought about refusing and going on the road again, but there was nowhere he could go. Nowhere he could lead them to. So he nodded and followed Nanaki, who was looking confused. After a short hesitation and an exchange of looks, the others followed him too.

\- L.

 The woman called Pola, as it turned out, was an outsider too. She’d been meditating in Cosmo Canyon for three years now. She smiled when she saw them, a big smile, and dropped the pot she had been holding. Cloud was suddenly reminded of his mother. She seemed genuinely pleased to have guests, and Barret couldn’t understand it.

 “Haven’t you heard, the world’s comin’ to an end?”

 “Oh, the Meteor, I heard.” She said, picking up the broken pieces of the crockery on the floor. Cloud bent over to help her. A sharp edge of a piece cut his finger, and a tiny bead of blood clung to the end like a ripe fruit (a dumb apple). “Be careful, dear,” Pola said. Cloud didn’t answer. If his mother had lived, she might have been around the same age as this woman. Though she would never come here to meditate – she had believed in God that he could not see.

 “Don’t bother, Barret. She’s probably gonna say there ain’t nothing she can do about it.” Cid said, not even trying to hide the sarcasm. The woman only smiled and offered him a cup of tea from a second pot on the stove. That appeased Cid a little bit.

 “You may be bitter now, but you’ll be surprised at how much you can learn from meditation. All in a few days, you’ll see.”

“How does that work?” Yuffie asked. She feigned condescension but Cloud got the feeling that she believed it. Or wanted to believe it, at least. Pola smiled as if she knew.

 “Different for every person.”

 “What do we have to do, then?” Cloud said before Barret or Cid could say anything else.

 “Well, for you, my dear. Let me see. How about gardening?”

 “How about _what_?”

 “Gardening.” Pola smiled innocently. “Haven’t you tried? It brings such a joy to the heart. So peaceful.”

 “You expect us to just… do chores?” Cid said incredulously. Pola said something in reply, in her annoyingly unmovable calm, but Cloud wasn’t listening anymore.

Gardening – it was so ridiculous. The end of the world, Meteor burning the air and tearing the fabrics as they breathed, and he was supposed to dig some dirt and… and he didn’t really know what exactly people did when they gardened. But it was ridiculous, and, “I wonder what Aerith would say if…”

 Cloud couldn’t finish that sentence because the sudden silence was too loud. It drowned out his thoughts. Everybody was looking at him, frozen, and that was slightly ridiculous too. Like he was some ancient piece of toy, a fragile thing that would break with a breeze.

 “Gardening. That sounds fun.” Tifa said, breaking the silence. Pola was looking a little confused. Tifa turned to her with a smile that looked forced. “Count me in, too.”

 The rest went smoothly. Pola assigned each of them with a simple task, gave them a few days to just relax. Barret and Cid looked suspicious but they didn’t argue anymore.

\- L.

 “I don’t know why no one talks about Aerith,” Cloud said. Tifa looked up from where she sat, plucking the weed from the soft soil. It was early afternoon but the sun wasn’t hot. The sky hid it well behind gray air that smelled pregnant with rain. They had been working for hours now. The task was a simple labor of the hand, leaving his mind free to wander. He supposed it was a kind of meditation, though he couldn’t really see the benefit.

 “It’s because… I don’t know.” Tifa avoided, turning her head back down. Her fingers moved swiftly between the greens. Cloud watched her absently for a while, mind not really on anything.

 “It’s because of me, isn’t it?” Cloud said. The air was getting heavier. He couldn’t help but remember a garden different from this, a long time ago. A garden full of yellow flowers.

 “Why would it be because of you?” Tifa didn’t meet his eyes. She pretended to be busy, smoothing out the dead weed in the basket as if for a funeral. Cloud plucked out another one.

 “I don’t know.” It came out angrier than he’d expected. There was a short silence. He could almost feel the air vibrating, like it was a living creature.

 “Did you love her?” Tifa asked, in a quiet voice. Cloud found he didn’t really have an answer. Or, he _did_ have one, but that was when he knew. He was thinking about her long, braided hair that came loose and danced in the water. And then suddenly,

 “I know,” he realized. “I know she said… How could I have missed it?” He got up quickly and knocked the basket of weed aside. Tifa followed him up, confused.

 “What? What are you talking about?”

 “She said she was the only one who could defeat Sephiroth.” Cloud explained in a huff of breath. He was already walking fast to Bugenhagen’s hut. “No, she didn’t say that, she said she was the only one who could stop Sephiroth’s Meteor.”

 “What? When did she say that? What did she mean?” Tifa quickened her pace to catch up with him. Yuffie, who’d been working on the plow some distance away, saw them and jogged to catch up.

 “In my… when I was, I mean, right before we went to the City of Ancients to look for her.”

 “Oh, and you remember this _now_?” Yuffie said, rolling her eyes.

 “None of us thought of it. But it’s strange,” Tifa frowned. “Why did she go to that forest alone? What was she doing… We never got to know.”

 “I’d say we were preoccupied.” Yuffie said. “What with… you know.”

 “Yeah. But I should have realized.” Cloud muttered. He remembered (he didn’t want to remember) the dream, because it was the last conversation they had – and he was afraid. Of wearing it thin, like a candy that’s been sucked dry, a memory too vivid that it loses everything else but the image. Every time his mind wandered to it, it seemed, the feeling faded a little more. At first it burnt like fire in his gut, her green eyes and the green forest disappearing into the white light – so painful, it hurt so much, but he bore it because he had to. It hurt a little less every day, though, and maybe it meant he was healing but he didn’t welcome the change. He didn’t want to be healed. He was afraid of what came next.

 Cloud told Bugenhagen what he’d realized. Bugenhagen said there was only one thing they could do now. Cloud didn’t want to go where the memory was so, vivid, but he found himself nodding numbly. He wished everyone would stop looking at him – even though nobody was.

\- L.

 Bugenhagen recognized the place. He let out an awed gasp, but Tifa wasn’t looking at him. She was looking at Cloud, who was looking at Bugenhagen. She wished he had answered that question.

 “Do you know it?” Cloud asked. He sounded a little impatient, but only a little. Most people wouldn’t notice.

 “It’s in the Ancient prophecies. I recognize it from the picture… The White Altar.”

 “The White Altar,” Nanaki repeated, his voice hushed. The place was silent. Even when Aerith fell in her own pool of blood, it had been silent. Sephiroth’s blade hardly made a sound as it pierced her, and they had all been too stunned to shout. Cloud had lunged forward with a haunted look on his face and Tifa was ashamed to admit that she was looking at Cloud, even then, even as Aerith died. But his voice had been swallowed by the silent white trees surrounding the altar. It was eerie, and a shudder went through her spines. Yuffie seemed to be sharing the sentiment. She eyed the still waters and the stiller trees suspiciously.

 “What’s the prophecy about?” Cid asked the practical question. Bugenhagen shook himself out of his reverie.

 “I should have known… it’s about the big Crisis.”

 “Crisis?” Barret frowned.

 “Yes. I suppose, the End of the World.”

 “And it didn’t occur to you that…”

 Cloud cut Cid’s sarcasm short. “It doesn’t matter. What did the prophecy say, Bugenhagen?”

 “Not much. It said, _when Crisis comes, seek Holy._ ” Bugenhagen’s voice was also hushed, but not because of the oppressing silence. It was reverence. Tifa thought it hardly fit the situation. She had expected something else. Something more, that might actually save the world.

 “That ain’t no help.” Barret complained. “So we’re just supposed to, what, _pray_?”

 “What does that mean, exactly?” Vincent asked. “Holy… does it mean something?”

 “I don’t know. Not that I…” Bugenhagen was interrupted by Cloud. He had a strange expression, not exactly disappointment. More like a truth discovered too late, like a dinner that turns out to be the last.

 “I know what it is.” Cloud said. Bugenhagen whipped his head around in surprise.

 “You do? What is it?”

 “It’s a… Materia, a white one.” Cloud seemed to labor to speak those words. Yuffie’s eyes twinkled at the mention of Materia. Cid looked excited. Tifa supposed that a Materia was corporeal enough, better than a prayer. Except,

 “But Shinra had Materias, too. A lot of them. Huge Materia.” She said carefully. Cid’s face dropped as he realized that he had in fact blown up a Huge Materia not too long ago.

 “This one must be different.” There was conviction in Cloud’s voice. “Aerith said… she said the Materia would glow green when a prayer reached it.”

 “Aerith told you that?” Cloud didn’t seem to hear the clipped foreignness of her voice. All the better for that.

 “Yeah. She used to have this White Materia. Carried it around all the time, inside her jacket pocket. The first time we met, she said it was entirely useless.”

 “Her jacket pocket? But that means…” Yuffie whipped her head around to stare at the still water of the lake, looking horrified. It was a strange lake, like everything else around here. It glowed faintly white as if ground diamonds were glitters on the surface. The water reached to the waist when Cloud stood in it, but at the same time it was deep enough to sink a dead girl’s body endlessly. Stray leaves and branches floated on the surface like normal water, but it also pulled Aerith deep into itself, where it bred darkness and buoyancy didn’t exist. Tifa wondered if someone would have to go underwater to retrieve the Materia.

 “I can’t swim,” Yuffie declared, and looked at Cloud expectantly. Cloud was eyeing the water dubiously like it was a living organism. Maybe it was. Tifa opened her mouth to save him, but Vincent was faster.

 “There’s no need to go into the lake.” He held up a small object between his fingers. “Found this by the foot of the altar.”

 “It must have dropped when she fell.” Cloud said, taking the Materia in his hands. It was the size of a normal Materia, like a child’s fist. Its color, though – Tifa had seen a fair share of green Materia, but this one was glowing with the color. The glow didn’t seem to come from anyplace within, either. Its source was somewhere else, something deeper, woven into the air around them.

 “It’s already green.” Bugenhagen said. “The Prayer… must have reached it.”

 “What Prayer?” Barret asked. And Tifa realized, suddenly, at the same time that Cloud did.

 “She was praying. Before she died.” Cloud said, looking lost and angry at the same time. “She must have been praying for this.”

 “And only Ancients could seek Holy.” Tifa said softly. “That must be why she told Cloud that only she could stop Sephiroth.”

 “She gave her life to…” Cloud didn’t finish his sentence. Yuffie looked uneasily at the water again.

 “Then why isn’t it working?” Barret said impatiently. He glanced at the sky like he expected the Meteor to dissolve away at any second. Tifa looked at Cloud; he looked at Bugenhagen.

 “Something must be interfering with its power.” Bugenhagen said, carefully.

 “Must be Sephiroth.” Cloud’s shoulders drooped a little. “Even when Aerith was still praying… I felt her power collide with Sephiroth’s. It must be holding the Holy back.”

 “Well, then. That only means one thing.” Yuffie said. She looked relieved to finally get the answer, even if it was the one they hadn’t wanted.

 “What?” Barret looked confused. Tifa wanted to laugh, despite herself.

 “What do you mean, what? You’re so thick sometimes, Barret, I wonder if you can even bleed.” Yuffie rolled her eyes.

 “Hey, I –”

 “We have to get Sephiroth.” Cloud explained. He seemed a little stunned, as if he realized that he’d had the answer all along.

 “There was really only one thing to do, I guess.” Tifa said. They had all set out to chase down Sephiroth – had they really expected it could end without murder?

 “Yeah.” Cloud muttered. He looked deep in thought, distracted. “Aerith… gave her life to help us. We should finish what she’s started – whatever it takes.”

 Everyone nodded and grunted their agreement. Tifa nodded too, but noticed something a little odd about the order of Cloud’s words. After a while she realized what it was.

Killing Sephiroth wasn’t, at least for Cloud, to save the world. It was for Aerith and her sacrifice and her green eyes. Tifa realized all this with a feeling all too familiar to her now, and also knew that she had the answer to her question. She’d known it all along.

\- L.

 “The transfer is complete.” Heidegger slammed the phone down, said triumphantly. Rufus closed his eyes like his voice was hurting his skull. Reeve sympathized with him.

 “Good. Reeve, you’re in charge.” Rufus rubbed his temple with two of his fingers. Reeve startled, looked at the President. There were only a few people in the gray meeting room at the top floor of the Shinra Headquarters. The sky outside the full window was drooping with heavy clouds. The wrong flick of a bird’s wings would start the rain, he thought.

 “What, me? Sir?”

 “You’re the head of the Urban Development Department. That means you’re in charge of Midgar and whatever happens inside, correct?”

 “But Scarlet…”

 “But I’m the head of Weapons Development! The Great Cannon of Junon, sir, should be in my charge!” Scarlet interrupted, sitting up a little from her sofa seat by the window. Rufus didn’t look back. He frowned like his headache was getting worse.

 “Scarlet, tell me who’s the President?”

 “Sorry, sir.” Scarlet deflated, although still with a sour expression. Reno looked at her with a smirk he didn’t even try to hide.

 “No need. Just a reminder. And how are the shells coming along?” Rufus opened his eyes and looked at Scarlet. Reeve saw that they were bloodshot from days gone without sleep. He pitied the young President. At times he even understood why his own mother fussed over the tiniest crumple in his suit, the thinnest new line on his forehead when she saw him. It had been a long time since he went home, come to think of it.

“Splendid. We thought we could enhance the shells with additional Mako. But,” Scarlet looked a little anxiously at the giant doom hanging in the sky outside. “We still need a little time.”

 “Don’t worry. I don’t think the Meteor will fall so…”

 “The Meteor ain’t the problem.” Reno interrupted Rufus. He was leaning against the glass wall, looking outside, and he glanced back at Rufus now. “Weapon is coming.” Reno’s finger left a warm mark on the window. Reeve noticed that rain had finally begun to fall.

 “Don’t worry, sir!” Heidegger said confidently. “There are SOLDIERs in Midgar. They’ll take care of it.”

 Rufus didn’t look so sure.

 “Do we have any airships left?”

 “None that can come in time.” Scarlet said. She was beginning to look worried, too.

 “How long do you need, Scarlet?”

 “At least ten, nine hours.”

 “Well, then.” Rufus straightened up in his chair. The cushion squeaked as air slipped out. “We’ll have to hope that the SOLDIERS really can take care of it. Mr. Tuesti,” Reeve looked up at his name. “Can I leave you in charge of Midgar and the Cannon?”

 “Yes, sir.”

 Reeve wasn’t sure what the President was asking, or if he was asking for anything in the first place. He wondered if Rufus knew – he’d been careful, but no one knew how much Rufus was hiding behind the detached mask he always wore.

 Reeve excused himself and hurried to his office. It was seven floors down, and at the furthest corner that no one came to look. Reeve preferred it that way. He made sure the door was locked, and scuttled to the cupboard. It was passcode-locked. He didn’t turn on the lights. The lock beeped open. Inside was a machine that looked more like a compilation of someone’s year-worth junk. He pressed a few buttons. Lights here and there came to life.

 “We have a problem,” he said to the small microphone. He listened. “Yes, but it concerns you, too. Come to Midgar as quick as you can.”


	35. Fire and Rain

  1. Fire And Rain



 

 Reno couldn’t find neither Rude or Tseng anywhere. He wasn’t too worried, though – they could take care of themselves. But it meant that after Reeve scurried off with a suspicious look and Scarlet left with Heidegger in tow, it was only him and Rufus in the room. Reno didn’t mind the new President, but it didn’t mean that they had a whole lot of things to talk about. In any case, Rufus just sat in his big swivel chair and stared at the patterns on the desk as if they might tell him something ingenious. After a few moments of silence, Reno got bored. Outside the rain was falling and leaving scars on the glass. Reno wished he could hear the sound. The world might end today, no later than – say, five o’ clock – and if it did, this would be the last rain he ever saw and he couldn’t even hear it properly. What a bummer. It struck him as funny, though, that he could estimate the time of the End of the World. He didn’t realize he was grinning until Rufus finally broke the silence.

 “What’s so funny?”

 “What?” Reno started. “Oh, nothing, sir, just –” He opened his mouth to explain the hilarity of a scheduled apocalypse, but what came out was something completely different. “The sound of rain.”

 Rufus finally tore his eyes away from the desk and looked at him, strangely.

 “The glass is soundproof,” he said.

 “Exactly.” Reno didn’t feel like explaining, so he turned his head toward the window again. Rufus was right – it really was completely soundproof. Reno felt it was strange to watch a war with no sounds. He turned to Rufus.

 “The fight’s started. Weapon is here.”

 Rufus sat up straighter in his chair, anxiety rolling off him like a smoke. “And the SOLDIERS?”

 “They’re here too. Fighting. Or – trying to fight.” Reno stuck his face closer to the window, but his breath fogged up the glass. Was that – “Tseng and Elena… and Rude, they’re fighting, too.”

 It was far away, and the people were like tiny ants scurrying about pitifully by the raging hulk of the Weapon, but Reno could make out Elena’s platinum blond hair and Rude’s sunglasses. If he died, Reno thought, or if he didn’t but still the world ended, Rude would have died with his sunglasses on – in rain. Reno started to grin but it didn’t quite reach his lips. _If he died, if they died_ – heartbeats, quicker. Reno screwed up his eyes and glared at the three little ants wearing the Turk uniform. Elena fell, skidded a few meters back on the road wet with rainfall. He wanted to watch them more closely but couldn’t get close enough. His breath made hazy clouds on the glass. He wondered what he was doing here. _Here_ – never mind that he had to protect the President; never mind that his electric rod would be useless in the rain. He had to be out there. Fighting. Because if the world was going to end –

He wheeled around to face Rufus. “Sir –”

 But before Reno could say anything else, Rufus spoke first. “Reno, what’s happening?”

 Reno gulped down what he was going to say. It didn’t matter anyway – not if the world was going to end. He peered out the window again.

 “They’re still… fighting, but it’s not enough. It’s not gonna be…”

 When, again soundlessly, a bright light exploded in his face. Reno blinked. The outside didn’t feel real. More like a scene from one of those ancient silent films. Reno recognized the airship in the air, dropping explosives like fireflies on the Weapon. It roared – it must have – and tried to reach it with its giant hand, but the airship craftily maneuvered out of its reach every time. Reno knew who must be flying it.

 “It’s the Highwind.”

 “What?” Rufus leaned forward, looking confused. Reno felt like laughing.

 “It’s the Highwind, they’re bombing the Weapon.”

 “Is it… working?”

 “Looks like, yes sir.” He wondered if he dared to be impudent, and then wondered if he cared. “Good thing we didn’t kill him.”

 “What? Oh… yes. I suppose.” Rufus looked a little uncomfortable. Reno decided to count that as a win. He looked out again just in time to see the big Weapon utter its last groan – Reno supplied the sound with his own imagination – and fall limp. He looked for the little dots and was relieved to find that they were still standing. Well, Elena was sitting. He really _did_ laugh, this time.

 “They did it. We won.”

 “That’s good.” Rufus slumped back in his chair. Reno knew it wasn’t the end, though. They had to actually get inside the broken barrier and face Sephiroth. Maim or kill him. Rufus was planning on sending the SOLDIERS, the whole lot of them, but many were wounded in the fight with Weapon. It looked like Rufus was worrying about the same thing.

 “Do you think the SOLDIERS would be able to fight Sephiroth? If they started now…”

 “They wouldn’t get there before five o’ clock.”

 “What’s five o’ clock?” Rufus frowned.

 “Nothing. I don’t think they’d make it in time, and even if they did, I don’t think they’d be in a shape to fight Sephiroth. We need an airship.”

 “We don’t have an airship. Weapon destroyed the last one.”

 “There’s one floating right there.” Reno pointed outside the window. Even from where the President was sitting, the tail of the Highwind must be visible.

 “But it’s… you think they’d let us borrow it?” Rufus looked doubtful. Knowing Captain Cid, Reno thought probably not. But as always – he had a brilliant solution.

 “We don’t have to, sir. Strife and his minions – what are they after?”

 “Oh.” Realization dawned on Rufus’s face, wearing an uncomfortable color. “Well, that’s…”

 A shrill beep interrupted them. The speaker came to life with a crackle, followed by Scarlet’s frantic voice.

 “Sir! Are you there?”

 “Yes, Scarlet. What’s the matter?” The air electrified with tension again, so soon after it had left it.

 “We have a problem with the cannon, sir! The reactor’s output is increasing all by itself and I can’t fix it!”

 “What do you mean you can’t fix it?”

 “I’m locked out. Someone’s switched it to mainframe operation.”

 “So it can only be manipulated manually?” Reno asked.

 “Yes. You have to physically be there, at the cannon. Who is this?”

 Reno didn’t bother answering. He looked at Rufus, and the President nodded. “Go.”

 “Will you be alright, sir?”

 “It doesn’t matter. Go, Reno.”

 Reno nodded and sprang out the door. The elevator was out – the power was cut during the chaos. He hadn’t run more than a few set of staircases, though, when he almost ran straight into Reeve.

 “Where are _you_ flurrying to?” Reno asked after they both stabilized again.

 “I heard! Did you hear about the reactor?” Reeve sputtered. Reno nodded.

 “Yeah, I’m going to the cannon to fix it,”

 “It’s no use. The way is blocked.”

 “What?”

 “Sector Eight is blocked by buildings and fallen beams that Weapon destroyed – you can’t get in.”

 “Damn.” Reno muttered. “We need an airship. If only…” He looked through the small window in the hallway, at the white sky that was crowded with Meteor and the Highwind, dotted with rain like Christmas decorations. Reeve followed his gaze. His face morphed into a stunned expression.

 “Oh,” he said. “An airship. I am so stupi –” He fumbled for his phone inside his jacket pocket and almost ripped the fabric in the process. Reno watched him punch in a set of numbers that he must have memorized by heart. The receiver picked up only after three or four rings.

 “Hello? My name is Reeve Tuesti. I… we need your help.” Reeve paused, and looked at Reno with an expression that looked like guilt. “Uh, who am I? That’s a good question… I’m, well. I’m Cait Sith.”

 The name was familiar from somewhere. Reno raised his eyebrows when he remembered where.

 “Reeve, you crafty old man.” Reno commented when Reeve hung up.

 “It’s not that. It’s… I’m their friend now.” Reeve protested. Reno only grinned.

 “Whatever you say. So they’re coming?”

 “They’re going straight down to Sector Eight with parachutes.”

 “I like the spirit.” Reno said. “Well, I should get back to Mr. President. He…”

 He couldn’t finish his sentence. The building started to rumble, and Reeve shrieked as he fell down the stairs. Reno reached for Reeve and tripped; the shaking got worse. First the ground came up to meet his shoulder, then his head collided with something hard – as blackness swallowed every sound and movement, he wondered what he was going to say in the first place. He thought it sucked that he didn’t even have proper last words, and fell into the darkness.

\- L.

 “Will it even work? In the rain?” Barret looked at the dangling parachutes that Yuffie was tying around her waist. She shot a dirty look at him.

 “I’m going down anyway. Better than staying in this flying metal… thing.”

 There were only three parachutes aboard the Highwind. Cloud and Tifa were going, and because she insisted – Yuffie took the last parachute. Cloud met Vincent’s eyes, though, and thought he might not need a parachute anyway.

 “Okay, we’re going.” Cloud said. Cid opened the hatch. Wind rushed to beat him in his face, against his arms. He felt his hair flying wildly. Raindrops splattered and sliced his skin, leaving it raw. It was hard to breathe, the air stormed into his nose and mouth like they were running away from the cold rain. Cloud jumped.

 The landing wasn’t entirely smooth, because the waters had weighed the parachute down. Cloud rolled a couple of times in the dirt, as the parachute landed on top of him like snow. He shook out of it and looked for Tifa and Yuffie. They were both alright, if a little disoriented. Cloud shot a glance at a church that had fallen sideways, blocking the road and sealing the sector off. On top of the church was also the remnants of the Sector Eight Plate. Cloud had seen, aboard the Highwind, Weapon’s massive hand smashing over half of the Plate. Thankfully, someone must have evacuated the people just in time – no dead bodies lying around, broken. The Sector Eight Underplate could finally see the sky – rain touched the ground straight from the clouds for the first time in years – but there was no one left to see it.

He untied the parachute and made his way to the tunnel that Cait Sith – someone called Reeve Tuesti – had told them about. Tifa and Yuffie followed. The rain stopped over their heads when they entered the dark tunnel, but wet footsteps echoed all around. Nobody said anything, not even Yuffie. Cloud thought he could feel the nearing End with every cell in his body. It felt like fire, dancing from the inside.

When the tunnel ended, the rain started on them again but he hardly felt the cold. The Great Cannon came into view first. It was gleaming silvery gray with dripping rainwater, sliding and breaking and again falling on its big body.

 Beneath the cannon was Hojo.

 “Stop it, Hojo.” Cloud said. Hojo turned around, his fingers hovering above the wet controls connected to the cannon. His hair was dripping wet, too, hanging in long black locks. Rainwater slid on his spectacles. He paused a little to see who it was, and then broke into a crooked grin. Cloud had always hated that grin – now he remembered why.

 “Oh, it’s you. My failed experiment.” His voice croaked against the sound of the rain. “Actually, I’m actually a little ashamed to have declared you as failed. When you’re the only one who’s survived.”

 “Step aside.” Cloud said. He found it strange that Hojo’s words didn’t affect him much anymore. Maybe it was the rain, or the fire inside. Hojo scrunched up his face in a mocking sneer.

 “What’re you going to do, then, kill me? Let’s see what’s quicker. My finger, or that monster sword of yours – even if you throw it, I’ll be quicker. No,” Hojo turned slightly, contemplating the button and his finger hovering just above it. “I have to do this for my son.”

 “What?” Cloud paused.

 “Your _what_?” Yuffie said in a shrill voice. Hojo didn’t look at her.

 “Sephiroth will have all the Mako energy he needs. I have to do this…”

 “But Midgar will be destroyed. All these people.” Cloud said, even though he knew that Hojo didn’t care. That he’d stopped caring a long time ago. Maybe when he lost the one real thing he thought he knew. Cloud thought of Lucrecia, wondered if Hojo really had loved her in another lifetime. It didn’t matter. It was too late. Cloud saw Yuffie clutching her boomerang, but even that would be too slow to reach him in time. And – and Cloud didn’t want to kill him, even though…

 “It’s not too late, Hojo. You can do the right thing.” His words were empty. He wondered if he really meant it. If he only _thought_ he didn’t want to kill him, or if he really didn’t. Memories were dancing around in his head and exploding in bright lights. The fallen church, the sky. Rain fell over everything.

 “You think?” Hojo was laughing. “Watch me.”

 Cloud started to run, but knew it was useless anyway. Many thoughts flashed across his mind, none of them lasting. He knew Hojo would press the button first, and that cannon will fire – he might get there in time to kill Hojo in spite, but the cannon will overload anyway and kill everyone near Sector Eight. Which meant that this – running at Hojo with his sword raised – would be the last of him, the last moments of his life, and he thought –

 That was when there was a gunshot.

 Hojo screamed. The bullet had gone through his hand. Hojo’s eyes grew wide. “You…” His other hand reached for the button. A second bullet hit his head. Hojo fell, hit the mud and lay still. Blood pooled and then washed away.

 Cloud turned his head and saw Vincent, his gun still pointing at the air where Hojo used to be.

 “Vincent?” Yuffie gasped. “Where did you come from?” Vincent didn’t answer. He lowered his gun slowly, like he was completing a ritual. Cloud looked at him for a moment, but Vincent didn’t look back.

Cloud walked to the consoles and pressed the buttons in the order that Reeve had told him. He stepped back, and the cannon fired; not destructively, but enough to break Sephiroth’s barrier. Although he had covered his ears, the ringing lingered inside his skull.

 “The barrier’s broken.” Tifa said.

 “Yeah, but it’s not over.” Cloud answered her. His voice sounded strange, distant. “We have to go inside.”

 “And face Sephiroth.” Tifa said, looking over at Cloud. Cloud met her eyes. Her hair slid against her shoulder in a smooth cascade. He remembered a similar day long time ago. Rain had smothered the air then, too. They had played pointless games to pass the time, like counting the raindrops.

 “And face Sephiroth.” Cloud repeated.

 The End, in his veins.


	36. Tomorrow

Interlude II. Tomorrow (Prodigal)

 

_“Run away, run away, like a prodigal_

_Don’t you wait for me_

_So ashamed, so ashamed, but I need you so_

_And you wait for me_

_And you wait for me.”_

From _Prodigal_ by _OneRepublic_

\- L.

 It was raining. Or so Zack had told him. Cloud told him to stop being ridiculous.

 “We’re inside a prison, underground, probably. How would you know?”

 “I know,” Zack said, sagely. “I have this sense… of sensing weather.”

 “Yeah?” Cloud wanted to roll his eyes. If he wasn’t so tired, he would have. “What else can you sense?”

 “Freedom.” Zack said without hesitation. Cloud really _did_ roll his eyes this time. The bed leg that Zack was cutting out with a butter knife he stole the other day seemed just as intact as when it began.

 “I’m glad at least one of us is hopeful,” Cloud said. He hadn’t really meant to say it out loud, but things tended to slip out of his head lately. The pain was a constant ache in the back of his mind, and it was taking almost everything he had to manage it – not to scream out. It left little energy for things like watching what came out of his mouth, things he’d devoted most of his energy into, back in another lifetime.

“Well,” Zack stopped cutting. He looked thoughtfully at Cloud. “Okay. It doesn’t matter, ‘cause I’m gonna get us out of here. And _I_ have hope, so.” He shrugged. “You just worry about staying strong.”

 “I’ll try,” it came out more sarcastic than he’d intended. “What with the constant _torture_ , it might be a little challenging.”

 Zack just grinned. “I’m glad you haven’t lost your sarcasm, then.”

 After a moment of surprised silence, Cloud sputtered out a laughter, too. “Of all the things to be glad about.”

 “At least we’re here together. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your perky sarcasm.”

 (You know you would’ve been better off. You would be able to escape more easily. You would have escaped already, if not for…)

 Cloud gulped back something hot in his throat, another kind of pain. He knew he wouldn’t make it out alive, but Zack might, if he went alone. He wanted to tell him that – to leave him behind. He knew Zack wouldn’t even talk about it, but if he told him enough times, or if he died first (which was a challenge too), maybe he’d save himself.

 “Zack, when you see a chance to escape, and I’m…” Cloud started.

 “Shut up, Cloud. You’re gonna hurt your head.”

 And Zack grinned, like they _weren’t_ stuck in a torture chamber underground and they were going to wake up tomorrow, stretch, and just walk out.

 That idiot.

\- L.

 Sometimes he tried to help with the bed leg, even though he saw no point of it. When Zack fell asleep, and he couldn’t – because of the pain that muttered in his ears all night long – he dragged himself to where Zack had sat and started cutting. The repetitive labor didn’t take his mind off the pain, or make it less; it made it a pattern, something to be expected, something more bearable. If Zack noticed the deeper cut in the morning, he didn’t say anything because Cloud liked to pretend that he had fallen asleep, too. He didn’t want Zack to know how weak he was. Zack was affected very little, maybe not at all, from the same treatments that Cloud was going through. Cloud knew that Hojo was trying to breed the perfect monster; a copy of Sephiroth – as he now knew – and that it was basically injecting a lot of Mako into his system. How was that different from what SOLDIERS went through? Cloud had heard that not everyone could be in SOLDIER, because their bodies wouldn’t stand the Mako. It shamed him that he’d thought he could be one of them, once. Obviously he was weak. Obviously a dream was just that, a dream. Cloud didn’t want Zack to know. He battled the pain with all he had, and tried not to show it.

\- L.

 One day, he overheard a conversation. He was in a state between consciousness and unconsciousness, life and death maybe, and the unguarded words of the lab scientists tickled into his ears. He thought hazily that it was important, and that he should tell Zack… The pain was going away. It was one of those rare moments, when his senses overloaded – that’s what Cloud guessed happened, anyway – and his body fell into a blissful coma. They would leave him alone for days when this happened. Cloud tried to remember what he’d heard, but the rumbling inside his body was too strong; too violent. It overtook him too quickly. Cloud supposed that if he never woke up again, Zack might break the bed leg and make it out alive.

 He woke to the sound of a steady slice and cut. His mind half-swimming in a mist he wondered, for the first time, if they weren’t being watched inside their cells. A camera could be hidden anywhere, perhaps even in the bed leg that Zack was cutting now. He vaguely got the sense that there had been something important he had to tell Zack, and wondered if this was it.

 “Zack.” His voice sounded odd, grating like it was in pain, though he felt no pain. The fire that pulsed in his veins, throbbed constantly, was gone.

 “Cloud! Hey, you’re awake!” A sound of shuffling, and Zack’s head came into view, blocking the grayish white ceiling of their hell. _Cell_ , Cloud corrected himself, though it hardly mattered.

 “How long was I…?”

 “Almost two whole days. I kept yelling at them but they just said you’d be fine.”

 “You yelled at them?” Cloud tried to turn his head but realized he couldn’t. He hoped it was a temporary thing, out of fatigue and lack of sustenance (although even if it wasn’t, he didn’t much care).

 “Oh yeah. You wouldn’t believe…”

 “Don’t do that, Zack.” Cloud remembered something. “They’re already thinking you’re too… okay.”

 “Well, I am.” Zack looked confused. He narrowed his eyes at Cloud. “Whatever they’re doing to us, it’s having almost no effect on me.”

 “You mean you don’t know?” Cloud wanted to roll his eyes, if only to see Zack’s grin that usually followed Cloud’s eye-roll. Only he barely had the energy to blink.

 “What?” Zack looked confused. Cloud saw that he was still holding the butter knife in one hand. That reminded him of something else, too. He felt like an old man, his mind wandering, breezing through every memory and never staying enough to taste the colors. The pictures all faded, black-and-white.

 “They might have cameras.”

 “What?”

 “In this room. Here. They might be watching us even now.”

 “Well, I thought they might, when I started.” Zack shrugged. “But they let me keep sawing the bed leg off, so I figured they didn’t.”

  _Or they do, and they just don’t care_. Cloud thought, but didn’t speak it out loud. He wanted to hope; rather, he wanted to let Zack hope. He nodded.

 “What were you going to say?” Zack asked, when a few moments passed without Cloud saying anything.

 “Hmm?” His eyelids were getting heavy. He tried to keep them open. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice started to worry that he still wasn’t feeling any pain. But his scattered head couldn’t think of a reason why that would be a problem.

 “Before, you said, _you mean you don’t know_.”

 “Oh. It’s…” Cloud had to pause, to remember. “What they’re doing… to us. They’re injecting Mako… a lot of it.”

 “Really? How did you know?” Zack blinked. “And why would they do that?”

 “They want… Hojo wants to make us into a perfect monster. I heard them talking.”

 “What? But they never talk! I yell at them and still they act like they’re deaf or something…”

 “They do, in front of me. I pretend to be unconscious.” Cloud didn’t add that he really _was_ unconscious most of the time, or falling fast towards being unconscious, anyway. Which reminded him of what he was going to tell Zack.

 “Zack, they might discard you.”

 “Huh?”

 “They know that Mako has no effect on you. So they’re gonna… if you keep being unaffected…”

 Cloud didn’t have to explain what _discard_ meant. Zack would be able to guess.

 “You mean I have to _act_ like I’m in pain?” Zack narrowed his eyes. Cloud knew that if they really were being watched, it was useless anyway – but he had to try. “But they have these machines that measure… well, everything! It wouldn’t matter –”

 “They can’t measure pain, though.” Cloud reminded him. He knew it was true because it was working the opposite way for him. He knew he should show the pain more, as it was leading them to inject even more Mako, pumping him full with it and setting his entire body on fire. But he couldn’t, wouldn’t, not with Zack in the next room and even if nobody was watching.

 “Well, okay.” Zack looked a little doubtful. “But not for long, though. We’re gonna make it out of here, Cloud, I promise.”

 Cloud thought about denying that. _Be realistic, Zack. You might, but I –_ “Okay.”

 “I promise.” Zack repeated. Cloud thought that maybe Zack was trying to convince himself too. He was too tired to protest, anyway.

 “Okay, Zack. You get us out.”

 

\- L.

 Zack was good at a lot of things. He was good at making up stories, and making up hope. He was good at strategizing and fighting. He was good at cutting up a bed leg (he still wouldn’t tell Cloud what that was for, all he said was _you’ll see_.) and he was, as it turned out, very good at feigning pain. They didn’t discard Zack. The scientists were confused – Cloud knew, because they talked in front of his closed eyelids and shallow breaths – about the discordance between the reading and Zack’s apparent suffering. After a while, the readings began to correspond to the visual results, because people saw what things became and things became what people saw. Or so Cloud tried to explain to Zack, but Zack said it was too confusing.

 “We know three things for sure, now.” Zack said cheerfully, waving Cloud’s protests away. “One, is that they _definitely_ don’t have any cameras in this room.”

 “They might have visual without the sounds.” Cloud muttered. Zack pretended he hadn’t heard that.

 “Two – these scientists are idiots. And they don’t really know what they’re doing.”

 Cloud snorted a little at that. The pain slipped a little, with the laugh. “What’s number three?”

 “You tell me.” Zack said, grinning crookedly. He took the half-eaten bread on Cloud’s tin plate and shoved it into his mouth. Half was all Cloud could stomach without being violently ill. Cloud looked away, feeling his Mako-filled stomach spurt sea-water.

 “We’re gonna get out?” Cloud guessed.

 “You got it.” Zack attempted at a wink, and failed. It just looked like there was something in his eyes. Cloud had to laugh although it hurt his bones to do it.

 “You’d be a good salesman, you know.”

 “Because of my charms?”

 “Because of your pigheadedness.”

 “Hey, call it optimism.” Zack reached for the crumbs, chuckling a little. “I have a lot of hope for the future.”

 “Yeah?” Cloud’s stomach gave a groan. The spinning green of the Mako had reached his temples – he could feel it. Soon it would invade the veins in his eyes and he’d fall unconscious, desperately, so he doesn’t try to pluck his eyeballs out with his fingernails.

 “Yeah.” Zack’s voice sounded softer, or maybe it was the thumping in his ears. “What’re you gonna do when we get out of here, Cloud?”

 “I don’t know.” His voice was distant, like it was coming from years ago. He could feel himself slipping. “I don’t have any…”

 “Well, no worries. If you don’t have nowhere to go, I know this place…”

 Zack’s voice faded into a soft light. Cloud would’ve said _go visit my mom_ if she wasn’t burnt to crisp already. He wished he had called her. He couldn’t remember if he had ever said _I love you_ and that made him sad, that he didn’t remember and she wouldn’t have either. He wished she’d known. He wished…

 Was Tifa alive? The last time he’d checked, yes, beneath the heavy smoke of Mako and Sephiroth’s eyes – the same color, madness burning the irises bright green and hatred bleeding out like tears. But if no one had survived, if he’d died and

 He had died, they both had died. Cloud wanted to tell Zack that it was useless to hope about a future they didn’t have

  _I wish I’d told you_. Cloud whispered to the abyss. Nobody answered, not

\- L.

 Later, he would find that four years had passed in that Hell, but each day felt like a decade and each moment an eternity. Zack never forgot to tell him that they’d make it out, it wasn’t far-off now. Cloud didn’t believe those words. He endured not because of Zack’s promises, but because he was already dead. And because Nibelheim was dead with him. There was no hope, he didn’t believe in it. But he held on anyway. When Zack ran out of stories to distract him from pain, he started making up tales about dragons and fish and yellow flowers.

 Cloud held on for so long. He didn’t get used to the pain, he never would. But the day he didn’t wake up was the day Zack finally knocked a guard unconscious with the metal bed leg he’d cut out and made his escape.

 Cloud would have yelled at him to leave him here, if only he could speak. He felt and heard everything, but was paralyzed by the Mako that finally poisoned his senses into madness. He slipped in and out of consciousness, and each time he heard the world, it was nothing but Zack’s quiet words and his labored breathings as he dragged, carried, helped Cloud all across the land. Sometimes they had to hide, sometimes Zack lit a bonfire and Cloud felt the stiff heat tickle his skin. He didn’t need to eat, or drink, the Mako swirled in his body and suspended it from time. Zack talked a lot, just like he’d talked to distract him from the pain – but Cloud felt that he was trying to distract himself now, or maybe he’d always been trying to do that.

\- L.

 When the truck driver asked him what he was doing with a dead body, in a horrified voice, Zack sounded angry, almost, as rare as that was.

 “He’s not dead. He’s sick.”

 “Alright, sorry.”

 Cloud couldn’t see Zack’s face but he could imagine how it must have looked; sometimes Zack looked angry even when he was just thinking. He had sharp edges in his eyes, with eyebrows that were dark and startled. In fact, if Zack hadn’t been constantly laughing and smiling, Cloud would have been afraid of him in the beginning – he would’ve thought Zack was angry. It was hard to be afraid of Zack, but sometimes it was harder not to be.

 “Sorry.” Zack’s sigh. Cloud felt his weight shift. Zack adjusted his grip on his shoulder, trying not to drop his limp body onto the dirt – Cloud knew, because he could smell the muggy brown air – and Cloud tried to ease his struggle. If only he could stand up straight. But these days, it was all he could do not to slip into sleep all the time because the pain was returning. Cloud hoped it meant that his senses were coming back.

 “It’s fine. So you said you needed a lift?” The driver sounded like he was hoping otherwise.

 “Yeah. You’re heading to Midgar, right?”

 “Uh-huh. But I’m not going far into the city.”

 “That’s fine.” Zack said quickly. “Just drop us anywhere in the slums.”

 “But… shouldn’t he see a doctor?” The driver said. He wouldn’t know that Cloud could hear everything. He wondered if Zack knew. Zack certainly talked to him like Cloud’s answers were lost, not absent, but Cloud couldn’t be sure if Zack didn’t do that just to pretend. Sometimes he wondered what Zack was really thinking. Could it be hope? Really, after all these years?

 “I have to drop in on someone first.”

 “Well… alright, if you insist. Say, though, aren’t you a SOLDIER? And is he…?”

 “I’m not.” Zack lied. Cloud was a little surprised to hear this, but even more by his next sentence. “But he is. First Class. Got wounded in a mission.”

 “First Class?” The driver sounded awed. “Well, that’s something.”

 “Yeah.” Cloud could hear Zack’s grin in the dusty wind of the outskirts of Midgar. _Why did you say that?_ Cloud wanted to ask, but couldn’t open his mouth.

 “Alright. Get in the back.”

 “Thanks!” Cloud felt himself moved, and then propped up against the truck’s sideboard. It reminded him of sitting in a similar position, a long time ago, to the sound of rain and bumpy road home and,

 The truck started rolling. Cloud listened to the sound and continued breathing. The silence was heavy like gathered dust, but Zack blew on it. His words tickled into Cloud’s ears and Cloud imagined them to be raindrops.

 “So what’re you gonna do? When we get to Midgar, I mean.” Zack’s voice grew softer, like he was squinting against the sunlight. “God, I can’t believe we actually made it. No, what am I saying? Of course I knew. Didn’t I always tell you that I’ll get us out?”

 He paused as if to listen to an answer that never came. Only the road and the wind answered him.

 “Yeah, and I know you didn’t believe it. Not really. But still. But…”

 But you never gave up.

 “But it should’ve been sooner.” Zack’s voice was low, now, and Cloud would have liked to hold his breath a while to hear it better. But of course he couldn’t do that. The breaths flowed out of him as continuously as night followed day.

 “And I’m so sorry.” _What are you sorry for?_ He wanted to yell. Or cry, or maybe even roll his eyes. If Zack didn’t sound so sad. Lonely. Suddenly Cloud knew that it would be raining soon. The air smelled wet. Zack continued.

 “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you out sooner. Just a day sooner, and you’d be. You’d still.” Zack gulped something down that sounded too stiff to be swallowed. “What if you don’t wake up?”

 And Cloud realized that Zack didn’t know, he had never known. He had just talked and laughed and for all he knew, he could have been talking to the fading autumn sunlight.

 “No.” Zack said finally, after a pause. “No, you will. I can feel it.”

 It was the first time Cloud realized that Zack had never known; that when he said he could feel it, it was not hope or even tomorrow but only his fear. Doubt. That it had always been his choice to swallow it down and grin. And Cloud could hear another grin like that in Zack’s voice, but it choked up his imaginary breath to hear it so full of other things too.

 “What am I saying? I guess I must be tired. We’re almost there.” His voice changed, slipped on that mask that really wasn’t a mask at all.

 “And don’t worry, ‘cause even if you don’t have anywhere to go, I got some ideas. We could be mercenaries! Wouldn’t that be cool? Or be a little bit of everything. You’re pretty handy with mechanics, and I could be a salesmen like you said, or something.” Zack laughed. “I got a place I can crash for a while, anyway. Remember that girl I told you about, the flower girl, I never told you her name…”

 That was when they discovered them. The Shinra had been chasing them, and Zack had been careful and strong enough to avoid being captured so far, but they were so close to Midgar and maybe Zack let his guard down, or maybe it was some other cruel twist of fate, but now Cloud could hear the Shinra helicopters coming to clean up their mess.

 Raindrops began to fall.

\- L.

_We’re friends, right?_

He was crawling on the dirt. Through the dirt. Pathetic whimpers escaped through his lips. Every twitch was a burning agony. He no longer recognized his body, but he made it move. Fingernails scraped the small rocks and broke off. His bare arms were bleeding, from cuts and bruises. Mako was still in his veins, his body was trying to shut off the pain, but he wanted to feel it because he could move only when he felt it. Felt the sharp edges of the rocks and he made the broken bones move and he willed them to hold on. He was crawling on the dirt. He was crawling toward him, lying there in his own blood, and rain fell and drenched everything. Even the time.

  _I’m the one who should be sorry_ , Cloud wanted to say, but all he could get out was his name.

 “Zack.”

 Rain fell over that name, too. Cloud watched it wash away. He thought Zack might be dead already and didn’t know what he would become if he was. But after a moment that felt too long, Zack opened his eyes. The color of the sky – bluer than the real sky – they stared at the gray sky above. Rainwater fell into his eyes and mingled with the blood, rolled down his cheeks like tears.

 “Cloud. You…” Zack coughed. Blood sputtered out. “You’re moving.”

 “Why did you do it? Why didn’t you run away?” Cloud thought maybe he shouldn’t cry, but couldn’t remember why. The sky was crying for him. He waited for Zack to answer.

 “And… and leave, leave you to die?” It looked like he was trying to grin. It came with another cough, another spurt of blood.

 “But you thought I was already dead. That I wouldn’t wake up.” Cloud said softly.

 “I was… wrong. Look… look at you.”

 “But I’m…” Something warm slid from his eyes, slipped down his cheek with the colder raindrops. Zack’s eyes were fixed on him, the grin was still hanging from his lips. He was broken and dying, but his hand was still gripping the hilt of the sword. He looked very big, suddenly, compared to Cloud.

“I’m nobody.” Cloud shook his head. The words were barely recognizable. His voice was shaking too much, his world was crumbling too much. “Why would you die for me? You’re… Zack, you’re…” He had to pause, because his breaths were coming in such harsh gasps. The rainwater slipped into his open mouth. There was no sound at all except for rain all around.

 “Shh.” Zack whispered, like his voice was already broken but strung along just barely with a transparent line. “What’re you… going on about?”

 “You’re the best person I’ve ever known,” Cloud managed to say.

 Zack grinned, slowly. “So are you.”

He pulled down Cloud’s head to his chest, and Zack’s blood drenched his hair and eyebrows but he didn’t mind. Zack pushed the sword into his hand.

 “You’ll live… for the both of us. You’ll, be my, living legacy.” Zack told him. Cloud hardly understood anything at all, but he nodded. Zack smiled.

 He died with a smile on his lips still. Cloud realized he was crying, he was holding Zack’s sword with both his hands, and now he had to live. Because Zack died for that. He still couldn’t understand, but he knew Zack sometimes believed in impossible things and called it tomorrow.

“I won’t forget.”

 Cloud said that over and over again to the rain, because it was the only one left to hear him.

\- L.

 “I never got to answer the question.”

 “What question?” Tifa looked curious. She turned her head to face him, and her face was only half-lit from the dim daylight smeared by gray rain. The Highwind was flying smoothly towards the End.

 And he had forgotten. _Easy to make that promise,_ Cloud thought.

 He hoped Zack hadn’t been wrong.

 “We’re friends, right?”

 Tifa looked startled for a moment, but then a smile spread across her face like gentle ripples on a lake.

 “Of course.” She said. Cloud smiled.


	37. Loveless

_“Where, where will you stand_

_When all the lights go out across these city streets?_

_Where were you when_

_All of the embers fell, I still remember them_

_Covered in ash, covered in glass, covered in all my friends_

_I still think of the bombs they build.”_

From _The Only Hope for Me Is You_ by _My Chemical Romance_

\- L.

 The main dock, when they returned to it, was very quiet. Cloud imagined (for a second) that his fluttering nerves had blocked out the sound, but of course it was not possible – Mako in his cells didn’t allow that kind of respite – and in any case, there it was, the sound of his own even breaths in his ears. They were just silent, that’s all. Even Yuffie, who was sitting cross-legged on the armrest of the sofa, eyes closed, like in some kind of meditation. Barret was slumped deep in the other couch, polishing his gun-arm with a cushion.

 The silence was stretched so tight and Cloud thought a wrong grimace would break it and shatter it to pieces. Tifa met his eyes briefly, her eyebrows raised, and made to sit next to Barret, picking up the strewn cushions on the floor.

 “Where yeh been?” Barret asked, without looking up. His voice sounded much too loud, of course, but somehow it did not interfere with the overwhelming _silence_.

 “I was helping Cloud pack, for later –”

 Cloud noticed that Cid and Vincent were by the consoles, Cid in his Captain’s seat and Vincent leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, both staring out the wall-length window with intense concentration. Cloud looked out the window, too, but he only saw the vast gray sky and the giant meteor half-hidden by dark rain clouds. He walked to them, feeling strangely self-conscious about his arms and legs, though no one was looking at him.

 “What are you looking at?” He asked, as quietly as he could.

 “Nothing,” Vincent said.

 “I was just thinkin’, that’s all,” Cid said, distractedly. He wouldn’t quite meet Cloud’s eyes. “This is the End, ain’t it?”

 “The end of what?” Cloud asked. Cid shot him a half-incredulous, half-amused glance. He chuckled. Vincent turned his eyes away from the window and closed his eyes, a perfect imitation of sleep – or maybe death.

 “You’re funny, lad,” Cid said, fondly. Cloud frowned, but before he could ask (he hadn’t meant to be funny, but then he rarely did), Cid was talking again. “Say, Cloud, have you ever seen _Loveless_?”

 “What?” Cloud blinked.

 “The play. _Loveless_. C’mon, even you must’ve heard of it.”

 “Of course I’ve heard of it,” Cloud said, an image of a torn poster briefly flashing in his mind, dark with rain and wind and dust, somewhere in the slums of Midgar. “Who hasn’t?”

 “But have you seen it?” Cid was insistent, for some reason.

 Perplexed, Cloud shook his head.

 “Strange thing to be asking,” Vincent commented, without opening his eyes.

 “I dunno, I feel like it’s an End-of-the-World kinda question,” Cid shrugged. He twirled the end of his spear on the metal floor. “Anyway, so I went to the theater one day –”

 “You went _where_?” Barret said from the couch.

 “The _theater_ , moron, not like you’d even know what it is – anyway,” Cid said, firmly, over Barret’s half-muffled protests (Yuffie had just thrown a cushion in his face). “So I guess I wanted to see what the fuss was all about. Y’know, _Loveless_ , it’s been on for years and there’re hundreds of books written about it, right?”

 “It doesn’t have an ending,” Cloud said, trying to remember what he could. “Does it?”

 “No. An’ that’s another thing – what the hell, right? So I went to see it… turns out, I ain’t a big fan of plays,” Cid grinned. “I dozed through the first half… and, well, the next half. I woke up for the last scene, though.”

 Barret said something incoherent, as now Nanaki was wrapping himself around Barret’s head, with Cait Sith cackling like crazy. At least the dreadful silence has passed, Cloud thought.

 “The last scene, there’s this girl and she says to this boy, ‘Do you have to go?’ and the boy says somethin’ like, ‘It’s my responsibility.’ And the girl doesn’t understand but tells him to take care of himself –”

 “Why are you telling this story, exactly?” Yuffie asked.

 “Shush. So she goes all teary – but the boy ain’t crying, just this sad smile, and he says, ‘I’ll come back. Even if you don’t wait for me, I’ll come back knowing that you’ll be here.’” Cid finished. Cloud was saved from having to make a reply by Tifa.

 “What does that mean?” She asked.

 “Yeah, how does he know she’ll be there if she doesn’t wait for him? Sexist.” Yuffie humphed.

 “What happens next?” Nanaki said, casually sitting on top of Barret’s face.

 “Nothin’. I dunno. It just ends,” Cid shrugged.

 “That’s so stupid.” With that final observation, Yuffie went back to her meditation. Cid looked back at Cloud, and Cloud could tell that he wanted to make some kind of a point.

 “I –” Cloud started, paused, scratched his head. “I’ve never been that big on literature.”

 “I didn’t get it then, either,” Cid said, as if to console him. “But now I think I do.”

 “What do you think it means, then?” Tifa asked, resting her chin on her hand. The sky cast a gray light and dark shadows over her face, and she seemed to be glowing.

 “Well… I can’t really put it into words,” Cid looked sheepish, now. “I’d be a poet, then, wouldn’t I? But… when this is over, I’m landin’ this ship, for good.” His eyes searched the window again, at the flickering bits of rain hitting the glass. “Yeah… that’s what I’m gonna do…”

 Cloud still didn’t get it. He was about to ask, when Yuffie’s eyes flew open suddenly and she yelled, “Cloud!” with such urgency that Cloud looked out the window reflexively to check for any missiles heading their way. There was none.

 Yuffie jumped off from the couch and got out a piece of crumpled paper from one of her may pockets, straightening it out as she walked over to him quickly.

 “Sign this,” she said, thrusting it out. “It’s a promise that you’re gonna hand over all the Materia to me when this is over.”

 “I never promised…”

 “Better late than never,” Yuffie said, with an overwhelmingly generous air. Cloud frowned, but then the ship gave a sudden jerk and Yuffie yelped; she made to clutch his arm as she fell on her knees, leaving faint scratches on his skin.

 “We’ve crossed the Northern Barrier!” Cid yelled, a glint in his eyes, a captain sailing into the end of the world. Cloud thought about saying something but anything he could say must have crossed their minds already, and besides he wasn’t big on making emotional speeches. Instead, he stared fixedly as the ship tore through the sky and began to lower itself onto the ground, raindrops pelting the windows, almost screaming.

 _This is it,_ he thought.

\- L.

 The entrance of the cave was barely wide enough to go through, a dark and ominous hole surrounded by rocks and dead trees. Barret had to hold his breath when he squeezed himself in. Cloud went last, noticing for the second time that day how the world seemed to have turned completely soundless. All the plants and animals were dead inside the Northern Barrier. Even the air seemed to be decaying slowly.

 Inside was a pitch-black stone corridor, also very narrow. Even his Mako vision could just barely make out the shapes of those in front of him; it was good that Vincent was leading the group, anyway.

 “I can’t see my own fingers,” Cid said, in a hoarse whisper that ricocheted. “An’ it doesn’t make any difference whether I close my eyes or not, either.”

 “Same here,” Barret said, shifting uncomfortably. “I feel blind…”

 “I can only make out shapes,” Nanaki purred, and something warm brushed Cloud’s legs. Cloud could see Nanaki’s shape, too, and Cait Sith perched above his head.

 “Vincent, you can see, right?” Cloud asked.

 “I can.” Vincent said, calmly.

 “Then you lead the group. And everybody, just – put your hands on the shoulders of the person in front of you, and walk carefully. Nanaki, you can follow us.”

 There was a shuffle as everybody tried to find the shoulders in front of them.

 “Okay,” Cloud said, when he saw that everyone had settled somewhat. “Let’s go, then.”

 “Wait, wait,” Barret said. “Don’t you have a speech or somethin’? I mean, it’s the climax and everythin’.”

 “A speech?” Cloud said, incredulous. “I don’t have a speech.”

 “Well, then – at least say something encouraging.”

 Cloud racked his brain but couldn’t think of anything. “Well,” he said, after a pause. “Good luck, everyone.”

 Barret scoffed, but Vincent started walking and they all had to move along, albeit very slowly, feeling their way with their boots.

\- L.

 They were silent for a long time (walking in the dark was more tiring than he’d have thought), but it was broken suddenly when Vincent walking and consequently they all bumped into each other’s backs. Someone said _Ouch_ , Barret started to complain, but then a sudden hiss from the darkness in front shut them up. Cloud realized that they were no longer walking through a narrow corridor – the air felt much larger, here. They were in some sort of  a room. Cloud looked over Barret’s shoulders, his eyes strained, and saw a strange shape crawling towards them, hissing quietly – no, two, three…

 “It’s the Sephiroth clones,” Vincent said. “The cloaked ones. They’re coming at us.”

 “How many?” Cid said, dropping his hands from Yuffie’s shoulders and grabbing his spear, valiantly, despite the fact that he couldn’t see anything.

 “I don’t know – too many to count.” Vincent still sounded calm, which was a stark contrast to the panicked hiss from Yuffie.

 “How are we supposed to fight them? We’re as good as blind!”

 “We just swing at whatever comes near,” Barret said, determined. “They don’t got weapons, do they?”

 “No, but are you sure…”

 “Let’s just spread out, do what Barret said,” Cid said, feeling the ground with his spear like a blind man. “Oops, sorry, Tifa, didn’t see you there –”

 It was lucky that the creatures were so slow. By the time that one of them had gotten near enough to be a threat, they had all spread out with Vincent and Cloud’s help.

 Cloud backed up too, unsheathing his sword, when Barret called his name.

 “Cloud, yeh still there?” Barret said.

 “Yeah, I’m still here,” Cloud said, wondering where Barret imagined he could have gone.

 “Well – not anymore. Yeh gotta go.”

 “What?” Cloud said, not taking his eyes off the closet clone-shaped thing crawling towards him.

 “We don’t got the time. This is what Sephiroth wants, tie us here with these things and then blow up the whole Planet… C’mon, Nanaki’s gramps said it could be any minute.”

 “But –”

 “He’s right, dammit,” Cid grunted. “Only you an’ Vincent can see in the dark. You two go, we’ll catch up.” He took a breath. “It ain’t here yet, right? I feel like my nerves about to break.”

 “No, it’s still a bit off,” Cloud said. He would have liked to argue, but Barret was right – they didn’t have time. Vincent was already preparing to leave. “Okay,” he heard himself say, and didn’t ask any questions (how long will you be able to hold on? How will you find your way to us?) because they didn’t have time and maybe he didn’t want to anyway (is this goodbye?).

 He was running, leaping over the crawling creatures who jerked as if to catch his legs, and he heard Barret’s gun firing into the dark. There was a strip of creature-free at the side of the cave, too steep, but Cloud thought he could make it if he ran up at once. Vincent joined him seconds later, not saying anything. His cloak didn’t seem red anymore, just a deeper shade of black than the rest of the world.

 They found themselves in another narrow corridor. Cloud didn’t know if they were going the right way, but it was the only way, so he kept running. About ten minutes into the run (when he’s had about a dozen visions of those clones overtaking the others, plucking out eyeballs and screeching), there was, suddenly, a light.

 Cloud and Vincent stopped running almost instinctively, the sudden light such a shock to their dark-adjusted senses that Cloud forgot everything else for a second. The light was very small, feeble (but blinding), coming out from a crack in the wall and casting over the rocks that were not black but charcoal gray, with specks of dirt like diamonds. Cloud and Vincent looked at each other, and approached the light together, until they could almost touch it. Vincent’s clawed fingers tore open the crack wider, and Cloud took a measured swing at it with his sword until the entire wall crumbled and revealed a smaller chamber, the source of the light. His eyes burned, the light was so intense, and he had to close them for a moment; he felt tears behind his eyelids. When he squinted against the light again, he found that it was a block of transparent crystal, glowing brilliant silver-white. It was Holy – but it was caged inside a wall of black smoke.

 And then Sephiroth came.

\- L.

 He knew that if Sephiroth had ever been someone’s friend, it was Zack and not him, but it was strange nonetheless; he had all the memories of Sephiroth, his green eyes alight with something other than the cold madness in his dreams, back when he was not a monster. Sephiroth watched him for a while, and his lips twitched into an amused smile. Cloud couldn’t tell if the world was spinning or if it was just his head. _Interesting_ –

 “Interesting,” Sephiroth said, slowly, in his rich, velvety voice. “You have changed.”

 _I wouldn’t have thought it possible._ “I wouldn’t have thought it possible.”

 Cloud realized that he was hearing the echoes of Sephiroth’s words before he spoke them. He barely felt anything, all his sense numb. Was it the rock or the earth or the wind he was standing on? All he saw was Sephiroth’s cruel smile and all he heard was the echoes of his multiple voices, everything else swallowed by the black smoke.

  _But_ “no matter, you can’t” _win._ Cloud closed his eyes, concentrating hard to drive out the second voice. It was doing something to his head, smoldering and blistering his brain, and he realized that he was holding out his sword and his hands were not shaking. He opened his eyes.

 “I admire your courage,” _Cloud. Have_ “you finally realized that” _you are not real_?

 “I’m real,” Cloud said. He focused on the green of Sephiroth’s eyes. He tried to remember the fire, and after that – the pain, the rain, the dream, the lost memories. But the pain, mostly – the sharp edge of his masamune piercing his chest, the insistent pain of Mako too fast in his blood –

 “Oh?” _Oh?_

 Cloud concentrated on that pain. Yes, the burn; when he thought he was walking through hell and the Black Materia was burning his palm, and he imagined white bones and angry blisters on his skin, imagined muscles flailing. And now he was finally burning. He was burning the memories, too, but it did not matter – they may not even be real.

 He was running. His sword clashed with Sephiroth’s, coming up lazily to meet it halfway. His muscles burned and he knew he wasn’t supposed to be running, moving at all, and Sephiroth seemed mildly surprised. A moment of clarity – masamune glinting in the reflected light of the Holy, moving faster than his eyes could follow. Cloud jumped out just in time, saw it cutting through air, and his heart was beating so fast even as he thrust Zack’s sword out and he saw – no, he did not see, but he knew where that next attack would come from. Not his memories, how did this happen? Zack watching Sephiroth. Zack trying to imitate his graceful movements, Sephiroth training him, amused and patient –

 He was breathing hard. It was difficult to move. Sephiroth had lost his smile, and there was a glint in his eyes as his long sword came at Cloud, making small cuts on his skin. It came at him with certainty; Cloud remembered, ( _How did you do that?_ Zack had sounded awed, admiring) and blocked it with two hands on the hilt. Sephiroth paused. They stayed like that for a moment, staring at each other.

 “I see you’ve remembered some things,” Sephiroth said. His voice didn’t have an echo anymore.

 “You’re dead,” Cloud gasped. Sephiroth narrowed his eyes, the edge of his silver sword swished, and Cloud barely managed to duck. He tried to move faster than he could, and a short spasm of his wrist almost made him drop the sword. When he looked back up, the point of the masamune was all he could see; coming right at his throat, too fast or two slow, two blinks, but there was a gunshot.

 Sephiroth had to wheel around and throw himself to the side, to avoid the bullet. Vincent was crouching on the protruding bit of the cave wall, the gun pointing at Sephiroth steadily and the metallic gauntlet clenched in a tight fist. Before he could fire another shot, Sephiroth rushed forward blindingly fast and with a deafening blow – Vincent was thrown to the other side of the chamber. His gun flew out, his head hit the wall badly. Sephiroth spared him only a glance, before he found Cloud again. The corner of his lips curled; Cloud had tried to attack him while he wasn’t looking, but Sephiroth parried his blow as easily as if this was some choreographed dance move.

 “Can’t stand interruption,” he said, softly. Vincent wasn’t moving, Cloud noted, as his sword was again blocked by Sephiroth’s. “This is our moment, is it now? Time to –” Sephiroth looked amused. “Ah, yes. Time to settle the score.”

 His own words, quoted back at him. Cloud tried to steady his breaths. That was when Aerith was still alive. He gripped the hilt tighter; a light flickered somewhere; Sephiroth charged again, still too easy, still with the smile.

 Cloud blocked some of the blows, but some left deep cuts on his forearms and his sides. Small rocks cut into his skin when he fell to the ground. He wasn’t fighting, he knew, just defending. The headache – he had hardly had time to notice it before – it was getting more intense. The Black that had made him give up the Black Materia, made him almost kill Aerith – it was back again. It curled around his skull like a snake, licking and squeezing and smiling. Cloud got up, bleeding, and found Sephiroth watching him from some distance away. He could have finished him if he kept on it for ten more minutes, but Sephiroth was – he was arrogant, he was lost, he was still furious. Cloud struggled upright, feeling his gashes rip and his bones rattle but not the pain – not there, anyway, but he was fighting the black smoke inside his head. It left very little of his mind to come up with a plan. It wasn’t much of a plan, though.

 Cloud’s knees gave out, and he fell again. He wondered what that ugly noise was – realized it was his own breathing, coming with strained gaps in the middle. Sephiroth was watching him without a word. Blood soaked Cloud’s messy hair and pooled around his knees – had he hurt his head? The pain was slowly and meticulously burning every surface of his mind and body. Cloud looked up, saw through a streak of – blood? Tear? – that Vincent was starting to stir a little, behind Sephiroth. His right hand was edging towards the metal gauntlet on his left. Their eyes met.

 Cloud got up very slowly, deliberately, even though his knees were still shaking. He wiped the blood-tears from his eyes, and looked at Sephiroth, straight.

 “So you finally remembered,” Sephiroth said. “That we are not – have never been friends. You were no more than an infantryman. Hardly worth noting.”

 “Why did you –” Cloud’s voice sounded hoarse, weak.

 “The only reason I put up with your nonsense is, well, because I was… amused,” Sephiroth said. “To see you with your righteous fury, throwing around words like _friend,_ like you knew what it meant. Also – I was curious. All those years ago, how could you have summoned the strength to throw me into the Mako? I had impaled you… you hadn’t had a drop of Mako in your blood, then.” His voice had turned meditative, like he was talking to himself.

 Cloud looked up. His right eye was blurry, but he managed to meet Vincent’s eyes; he nodded. His half-vision found Sephiroth next, who had not a drop of blood on him.

 “You want to know, Sephiroth?” His voice croaked around his throat like a badly-fitted armor.

 “Do tell,” Sephiroth said, with that indulgent smile.

 “Because – at that moment, I was – I stopped being afraid,” Cloud said, watching Vincent in the corner of his eyes.

 Sephiroth quirked his eyebrow, not saying anything. Cloud took a shaky breath and took a step closer, very slowly. Sephiroth didn’t move away; Cloud hardly looked a threat, his legs and arms still shaking badly.

 “Tell me I’m fake, Sephiroth, that my entire life was not important.”

 “Not afraid of what?” Sephiroth said. Cloud wanted to smile, but his already chafed lips tore open and he tasted blood and fire.

 “Of burning,” he said instead, and threw himself forward suddenly, putting all of his strength into that one blow. Sephiroth’s sword came up to met him automatically; no matter, he thought, he hadn’t hoped to catch Sephiroth off-guard, anyway. He felt something break in his chest, a part of him cut open so deeply that his soul must be pouring out, but the pain was so big that he was able to hold onto that, like a raft in a stormy sea, and he managed also to hold onto Sephiroth. Concentrated on that pain – what kept him alive, what made him real – and held on, couldn’t see, couldn’t hear anything, just knew that he had to hold on. And at that moment he was no longer afraid.

 A shadow covered them both, Sephiroth and Cloud, Chaos dripping blood and screaming fire. Cloud felt himself set on fire. A lullaby – the seven songs, the sky and the broken sunlight. He closed his eyes as he burned out.

\- L.

 The air smelled strangely murky.

 He tried to open his eyes. Still, the air, it was strange – considering he assumed this was the afterlife. The girl was there, suddenly, peering down at him curiously.

 “Is this – heaven?” Cloud muttered. He didn’t feel like getting up, so he lay still.

 “I had no idea you believed in heaven,” the girl said, cheerfully, crinkling her eyes in a smile. Sunlight poured through and reached the tip of her hair, turned it golden, although Cloud could have sworn that it’d been night just a moment ago. It didn’t matter, though. He stared at the girl for a long time, until her smile grew wider. She picked up a flower from near her feet and held it out to him.

 “For your loved one?”

 Cloud took it, the petals soft under his rough fingers. He was horrified at the yellow turning into red, the blood seeping through the petals – he dropped it like he’d been burned. He looked again, at his hands, but there was no blood.

 For a moment he thought he smelled darkness, and blood, but then it was the church again. Early afternoon; the girl looking at him with that peculiar, ethereal smile.

 “So – do you believe?” She asked. He wanted to tell her how much he missed her.

 “I didn’t,” he said instead, looking up at the ceiling. He could not stand to look at her face. The broken stained glass lit up both their faces in different colors. “But now maybe I do. You’re here.”

 “That’s sweet,” Aerith laughed. Her eyes shone in different colors; Cloud tried to name the colors, half-heartedly. The air shirted scents again, darkness and then – something much sweeter. He wanted to ask her if she’d been lonely.

 “Am I dead?” He asked. Aerith took his hand and flipped it back and forth. No blood – but he smelled it, or thought he did.

 “Not yet. Not today,” she finally said, letting go of his hand. She stared into his eyes.

 “Hey –” Cloud said, suddenly realizing. “This isn’t the first time, is it? I’ve been dead before. In the Lifestream.”

 “Let’s just say,” Aerith said and winked, “Having a Cetra for a friend, it comes with its perks.”

 “You saved me every time?”

 “I couldn’t save you the first time,” Aerith said, grimacing. “When you went against Sephiroth the first time – and won. You see, I had to be dead, first.” Sunshine was in her laughter.

 “Then…”

 “Hojo saved you. Revived you, to use in his experiments.”

 “So this is…” Clouds gestured at the world around them, the yellow flowers and crisp sunlight and different-colored lights in their eyes.

 “This is the Lifestream.”

 “It looks like your church,” Cloud said, looking at the broken statues and the upturned pews just as he remembered them. Aerith nodded.

 “So it does. It’s a comfortable place for you.”

 “And you… you’re,” _dead_. “Am I dreaming?”

 “Maybe,” Aerith got up. She held out her hand. Cloud had to take it, though he felt like staying down – she pulled him up to his feet. She smiled at him. “You’re okay, Cloud. For now.”

 “Will the Planet be okay?”

 “I don’t know,” Aerith’s voice was half-light, half-water. “You’ve done everything you can, anyway.”

 Cloud thought that was not true, but there was no arguing with Aerith; especially when she was smiling like this. “Okay,” he said, weakly.

 “It’s time for you to go, now,” Aerith said.

 “Wait,” he said, desperate, even though the smell of metallic blood was starting to come back. The church was beginning to melt into white light around him. “Did you… do you know about me and Zack? How he saved me…”

 “I didn’t, but now I do,” Aerith said quietly. The taste of blood was between his teeth now.

 “So now you know.”

 “Know what?”

 “Why you took me to that firework show. It wasn’t me – I was pretending to be Zack. All along. And you… loved him, said we were similar, but…” But they were not. Cloud was nothing like Zack.

 “Cloud,” Aerith said, like she was reprimanding him. When he looked back at her, though, her face was all dazzles and soft light, because she was smiling. “You’re such an idiot,” she said, fondly, and then everything around them broke into pieces.

\- L.

 Cloud gasped. Someone held out a hand; he thought it must be Aerith, but then forgot that soon. Something sharp returned to his chest – a feeling – a brutal, intense kind of pain. The pain that had saved him, the pain that was going to kill him, unless –

 He saw a face that he hadn’t thought about in years. And then some other faces, faces he had lost, torn. He took the hand.

 “There. It’s going to be okay.”

 Someone was crying. He thought there was no need; not if death was going to come like this, as a blissful green light exploding over his head.

 “Is he going to be okay?” someone was asking. Cloud wondered what they were talking about. There was a lot of noise; and a lot of smell, strangely and bloody and murky, unfitting for Heaven. But then he did not believe in Heaven – or he hadn’t, until today.

 It was her hand, Tifa, “Hold on,” she whispered.

Cloud opened his eyes.

\- L.

 “What’s going on?” He murmured, his voice a faint whisper that he didn’t like. Something inside him must be broken, he thought. In fact, lots of things must be broken – judging by the way his body was hurting all over. But he had no time to dwell on that, because there was a great sigh somewhere to his left that sounded like relief, and there were sudden noises all around too. A hand clasped his shoulder.

 “You’re alive.”

 Cloud was surprised to find it warm, because it was Vincent’s hand – the one clad in that gauntlet – and the chaos must have done Sephiroth in (the air didn’t smell like panic and resignation), but Vincent hadn’t destroyed himself in the process. So, that was good. Cloud wondered what had happened to his own body.

 “Yeah,” Cloud said, surprising himself by sounding very surprised. He hadn’t realized that there would be anything left to be surprised about.

 “We thought you were… you know, not alive,” Yuffie said, diplomatically. Her face was a bit of a blur, maybe because of the light pouring from the outside window, or maybe because his eyes were broken. Cloud tried to remember what had happened; after the explosion – the chaos – but he could only remember a great sadness, which puzzled him.

 “What’s happening?” He made himself sit up, not to scream out in pain. More hands helped him. He was still dizzy; didn’t know what that meant.

 “Well – Meteor’s crashing.” It was Cid; Cloud realized that they were on board the Highwind again, floating above the Planet as a big ball of fire was rushing (slowly, it seemed, but getting faster) toward the Planet. It was still far away but it wouldn’t take more than an hour, someone informed him. Cloud shook his head because everything was unreal; lost, safe, sliding, slipping. He knew he should be feeling some panic, desperation, but all he felt was sadness. If only he could remember.

 Didn’t we stop it? Someone said, anxiously. Cloud heard the answer but didn’t know what it meant.

 Even if you don’t wait for me…

 Red ball of destruction, fire and pain and freedom, reminding of his childhood when all the world was a battlefield with blood dripping from every leaf and there – there was the light. Or maybe it was just the sky, indifferent to the last, a soldier lying in his own puddle of blood.

\- L.

 Reno watched the sky, like everyone else. But he wasn’t thinking what they were thinking; or, at least, he thought not. The sky looked too small for that giant ball of fire tearing a hole through it like it was fabric. Reno was thinking it looked like meatball; he loved meatballs.

 Everyone else had a rather constipated look on their faces. The Shinra HQ Building had crumbled down in all its glory, but Tseng had managed to rescue Rufus from the rubbles. Rufus had broken his leg, but that would be the least of his concerns. Except maybe if he’d wanted to be standing up tall when the world ended, but Reno couldn’t think why anyone would want that (except he was not sitting, either, standing beside Rude with his hands in his pocket); the world was ending.

 He watched the sky, Rufus watched the sky, Tseng, Elena, Rude and Reeve all watched the sky without a word. Reno wanted to know what Rude was thinking (if he was thinking at all); he felt like this was the perfect time to ask, in the middle of the burning apocalypse and everyone looking so pained.

 “Rude,” he didn’t speak especially loud, but it sounded very loud in such a messy silence. Reeve turned to look at him. Rude just gave a grunt. “What are you thinking?” Reno asked. Rude kept looking up at the sky like he was looking for something (not the Meteor, probably; it was hard to miss), and his answer was not what Reno had expected, nor particularly liked.

 “A miracle.”

 “Seriously? There’s no such thing as a miracle. I didn’t take you for a – everybody get _down_!”

 Rude and Elena, being trained Turks, ducked on reflex before they even knew what it meant. Tseng, being trained leader, leapt and took Rufus down with him, lying flat on the ground. Rufus howled in pain. Reno was about to get the hell out the way of – whatever was coming at them, a force of green light that vaguely looked like someone he knew – when he spotted Reeve, staring stupidly around him. Reno fell forward instead, crashing down onto Reeve. The green force swept over them and burned the air right above their heads.

 He realized the ground was shaking now, beating – it was familiar, somehow. More green lights were coming at them from everywhere, and they all left burning trails. Reno realized that the ground was beating with his heart; exactly to his pulse; it was like the whole world was his chest and he breathed life like a magnificent beast. The sky shook, the meatball in the air was falling faster but the green lights were gathering their forces to meet it halfway.

 “What’s that?” Elena shouted, scared and awed. Rude looked at Reno like he might know the answer. Reno realized that Rude’s sunglasses had fallen off. He also realized, for the first time, that Rude had green eyes and not coal black like his soul.

 “It’s the Lifestream,” Reeve said, sitting up and gaping at the sky like a fool. Reno shoved his head back down before the green force – the Lifestream – could blow his head off.

 “It’s a miracle.”

 It was a while before he realized that the voice was his own.

\- L.

 “So we did it – we _have_ released the Holy, after all,” Tifa said. The green light was so intense, so final – she remembered Cloud’s memories, the world (their childhood) from his point of view. To Tifa it had always been rustling summer winds and sweet melodies, even the sadness was bitter like honey. But she had known nothing.

 The lights were all gathering, pushing up against the Meteor. Tifa knew that they would collide any minute now, the exploding fire and the pulse of the Planet, and it would end one way or another.

 The end of the world wasn’t quite as she’d expected it. So she wouldn’t go down swinging, like she’d always imagined; she wouldn’t be the first to die (before him), like she’d secretly hoped. That would be just – too sweet, a little too beautiful, and Tifa knew it to be messier in Cloud’s head. He would probably remember it all wrong, so maybe it was better this way. At least they would be together.

 She stole a look at him now. He sat limply against the leg of the sofa, staring hard at the mess of light in front of him, with narrowed eyes like he was waiting for the ending of a play he knew. Suddenly a terrible desire seized her. Tifa imagined the end – just as she had dreamed, and wondered if it wasn’t this that she had always searched for, waited for. She called his name, before she could decide against it.

 “Cloud.” It was like sin – saccharine.

 He turned his head at his name, and his blue eyes found hers. Tifa was not watching the end of the world; Cloud was not listening for the clash. As the two forces collided and the world flashed in a blinding white light, they were only looking at each other.

-L.

A/N:

This is the ending! Finally! It kind of just… ends, but then in the game it just ends too, and I think it’s kind of poetic that way. What I wanted to do when I started this project was to make this wonderful world more alive, more immediate, and I hope I succeeded… a little, at least. Kind of like how I’m looking forward to the FFVII remake (they didn’t announce it until after I finished writing the whole thing, unfortunately. Oh well.) because it’d make the story more _real_ , you know? Anyway, thank you for reading this far! I hope you enjoyed :)


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